


Silver Coin

by elven_prophecy, thebeastinsideusall



Series: Fahliil-Sunvaar-Wahlaan [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Aphrodisiacs, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fist Fights, Graphic Description, Gray-Mane Clan - Freeform, Hangover, Mating Bond, Memory Loss, Mistaken Identity, One Night Stands, Scandal, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Street Fight, Strong Family Ties, The Companions - Freeform, Threesome - F/M/M, Twins, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Werewolves, mating behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:38:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elven_prophecy/pseuds/elven_prophecy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeastinsideusall/pseuds/thebeastinsideusall
Summary: Flip the coin she thinks. A one night stand couldn’t be all that bad. She’ll have her fun then get this craving out of her system.Except, there were two of them, and she wasn’t sure who was who….





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

### 1

   Farkas saw her first, he’d mistook her for the Gray-Mane barmaid (he wasn’t good with names) at first until she got closer to him and Aela as they left the Whiterun gates.  She’d made eye contact with him, and froze. He’d kept on walking, not wanting to call attention to Aela or himself. If Kodlak got wind of what they were doing, he’d skinned them both alive.

    His wolf had stirred restlessly as he’d passed her.  She smelt of precious metals (like gold and silver ingots), lavender and earth.  The Beast howled in his head while he gritted his teeth. Aela heard the sound and turned to look at him.

    “I want them dead too,” she said, trying to calm him.  She’d mistaken his agitation for impatience. Farkas didn’t correct her.  He didn’t want Aela to tease him like she always did.

   The female had been a Nord, with the same grey hair that plague the entirety of the Gray-Mane clan (he’d get Vilkas to ask Eorlund later).  She’d been short for a Nord, he’d noticed, as the bigger brother she’d barely reached his shoulder.

    “Aye,” he’d answered, schooling his features into a scowl, “We’ll make better time tonight.”

   “Yes we will.” She said it with a tone of finality.

************

   Reyja had watched the big warrior until he was out of sight (Dibella have mercy...).  She been rooted to the ground when they’d made eye contact, those silver eyes piercing right through her (and they had been silver, not grey).  He’d taken her breath away with his sheer animal magnetism. She’d been so enrapt with him she hadn’t so much as noticed the woman that had been walking beside him.

    She’d have to ask Olfina is she knew him by description.  How many warriors were that size with silver eyes? And oh-so-wide shoulders (Mother Mara, he’d made the men she knew in Cyrodiil look like boys…).  She could have probably washed her leathers on his muscles (visuals of doing exactly that by the river, naked, minus the laundry had her turning tomato red).  The sword he’d had strapped to his back probably taller than a Breton. There was absolutely no way, her cousin would not know who she meant.

    “Silver eyes you say?” Olfina had stunned her when she’d finally gotten home, “I don’t know anyone with silver eyes.”

    “He was gorgeous!” Reyja gaped, considering how beautiful her cousin was, she’d half expected him to be a suitor, “Taller than anything I’ve seen in years, black hair, and _wide_ !” Reyja had emphasized the word, “ _Fina, how could you not know who he is?!_ ”

    “I have no interest in black haired, gorgeous, silver eyed, wide men.”

    “Of course not, that’s not Jon’s description,” Reyja muttered under her breath, disappointed that her cousin seriously had no clue.  She should have known better though, Olfina and Jon had been in love with each other since they had been children. She snickered as Olfina blushed and slapped her arm with the tips of her fingers.

    “Reyja!” she hissed, her face the same red hers had been earlier, “Don’t say anything foolish!”

   “I was jesting,” Reyja sighed heavily, “I’m sorry,” she apologized, and then added, “He was leaving Whiterun, he was probably some traveling mercenary.”

   Olfina gave her a quick hug. “I have to go to work at the Bannered Mare soon, I’ll keep an eye out for your warrior.”

   “Thanks Fina,” Reyja’s shoulders dropped in disappointment for a moment before she straightened, “Where is Uncle Eorlund’s shop?”

   “It hasn’t moved,” Olfina smiled at her, “Still beside Jorrvaskr, you remember the way?”

    Reyja nodded and sighed, “I do.”

    “Maybe your warrior is part of the Companions!” her cousin said almost as though she’d lit up on the idea.

    “Oh!” Reyja suppressed the urge to titter, “I forgot that in Skyrim it’s the Companions and not the Warrior’s Guild!”

   “Father works with them,” Olfina continued, “Perhaps he would know.”

   Reyja hugged her cousin tightly and made for the door.  She wanted to apprentice under her uncle (that had been the reason she’d returned as there existed no Master Smith in Cyrodiil), but now she also wanted to find the big Nord.  

   Jorrvaskr.  She smiled to herself as she stepped outside.  It was just across from the Gildergreen in the middle of the Wind District, up the stone steps.  She’d never been inside (had always wanted too but she hadn’t been allowed).

     She was just mounting the stone steps when she saw _him_ again (she hadn’t expected for him to have returned so quickly).  He’d pushed the big doors open, a scowl on his handsome face. Those silver eyes practically glowing.  She’d stilled halfway up, her eyes widening and he’d stopped three steps after he’d past her.

    She was looking down at him when he turned his head back to look at her.  Their eyes met and held for a whole minute before he turned away and continued down the stairs without saying a word.  She released the breath she was holding and put a palm to her racing heart. _She hadn’t been able to speak…_

   She fanned her hot cheeks before continuing on her way towards the Sky forge.  She had a huge smile on her face that she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted too.  It was remarked upon immediately when she manifested herself at her Uncle’s forge.

    “All he did was look at you girl,” her Uncle snapped as soon as he spotted her, “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

    She blushed a deep red, her eyes doing a great impression of Iron Shields as she whirled on her feet to look back over her shoulder at the view.  You could _clearly_ see the stairs where her and the Companion had stood staring at each other.   _Uh oh_.

    “W-who is he?” she turned back towards Eorlund, getting straight to the point.

    He was scratching at his beard, his mustache twitching.  She could see his smile. “That one is Vilkas.”

    “That one?” she asked confused.  Vilkas. She liked his name.

    “Got a twin, Farkas.” Now that surprised her.   _There was two of them?!  And she couldn’t tell them apart?!_

***********

   He was going to kill Farkas when he got a hold of him.  He didn’t know what Aela had said to him to convince him to help her, and frankly he did not care, Farkas _knew_ better than to instigate the Silver Hand.  Kodlak had warned Vilkas of the consequences that could happen, and so the he’d gone after his brother.

   He’d been distracted, lost in thought, and so when he’d left Jorrvaskr to track his wayward sibling, he hadn’t noticed her at first.  His Beast did. Immediately.

   Vilkas had walked right by her before he’d been forced to stop and turn his head.  She had stopped as well, and was staring at him intently, he’d returned her look.  

   He noticed two things right away.  She was a Gray-Mane, had to be with that hair, and she was small for a Nord, top of her head reaching his chin he’d guessed.  It had taken all his immense will power to tear his eyes away from hers. The Beast was growling in frustration, fighting with him to stay behind, to stay with the female.  It was intrigued and curious, wanting to learn her scent.

    Farkas was more important than _any_ female.  Not only was he his twin (along with everything that entailed), but he was also his pack brother, and his shield-brother.  They had never been separated for long (A week at most before one or the other would go looking), and they probably never would be either.

    He’d speak to Eorlund when he returned with Farkas.  He was certain she was a Gray-Mane, which meant her Patriarch was the Companions’ smith.  He had a lot of respect for the Elder, being a master smith was no small feat, his weapons were legendary.

    His brother’s scent was faint, fading with each passing moment.  Vilkas clenched his teeth and maintained a steady pace as he ran.  They’d gone Eastward… he kept his nose to the air, following Farkas’ smell.  He was going to pound Farkas into the ground when he found him.

      The consequences of Aela and Farkas’ actions were far too great.  He had to find them before they started something that the Companions could not afford to wage.  Too many innocent lives were be involved.

**********

    Farkas knew the minute he and Aela returned to their camp they’d been found.  He’d smelled his brother from miles away. He also knew this was not a confrontation he could avoid, and so in his Beast form, he’d barrelled into their hidden camp were Vilkas stood, his arms fisted as his sides, amidst their armours and clothes.  

    Aela transformed first (Vilkas ignored her completely, Kodlak would deal with her) his glowing silver eyes were focused entirely on Farkas’.  And then the eldest twin charged, with a warcry, his shoulder hitting Farkas squarely in the chest sending them both crashing to the ground.

    The sounds of snarls, yips, screams and roars were intermingled, with Farkas sinking his fangs into his brother’s forearm (Farkas had landed on the bottom, with Vilkas on his chest) while Vilkas merely shoved his forearm deeper into Farkas’ throat, forcing the werewolf’s jaws to open wider, causing the beast to keen.  Vilkas punched Farkas directly in the head with a gauntleted hand, stunning him effectively.

    He punched him two more times, before Farkas’ jaws dropped open and he transformed back into a Nord.  Naked beneath his brother who reached down to grab a handful of black hair to yank his head up.

    “ _Do you realize what you’ve done?!_ ” Vilkas snarled directly into his face as he yanked him up so that they were eye to eye.

    “Vilkas,” Farkas said his name calmly, “They killed Skjold, he’s avenged now.”

    “ _You’ve started a war!_ ” Vilkas hollered, punching his brother in the face again, knocking his twin to the ground, onto his side, he was still straddling him. “ _Why didn’t you consult with me first?!_ ” That was the real crux of the matter.  Farkas had not included him in something this important, and Vilkas was offended, and deeply hurt.  He felt betrayed that his twin had not trusted him. “ _Why?!_  You Oaf!” Vilkas reached down and grabbed his brother by the arm to wrench him up to hug him tightly, burying his face in Farkas’ shoulder.

    “Because you wouldn’t have understood,” Farkas tried to explain, hugging his brother back, his head hurting, “You and Kodlak reject the Beast and its gifts.  Skjold was a pack brother.”

    “ _They know where we live!_ ” Vilkas screamed against his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

 

2

   Reyja was sitting on a stool in the Bannered Mare, rubbing her sore palms.  She was blistered from the last week of brutal, hard work her Uncle had put her through.  He’d given her a break this week to allow for her muscles to rest. He’d warned her that life in Skyrim was not like Cyrodiil.  It was hard and unforgiving.

   Most of what he’d shown her, she’d already known, though that mattered little to her.  She’d been happy just helping, and working (she’d missed this). It was obvious, even to her, that despite being the best smith in Skyrim (if not Tamriel), her family was not wealthy (they were borderline destitute).

   Unfortunately, her work in the forge had left her with very little free time, most nights she fell into bed, exhausted and sore, asleep the moment her head would hit the pillow.  She was sharing a bed with her cousin, Olfina who was a bed hog and fur-stealer (which did not make for restful sleep).

And so here she was, sitting on the bar stool, nursing a drink (Jon had insisted) at the counter, her back to the fire pit.  Olfina was serving customers (which meant she was serving Jon) when she heard the door open and Hulda call out a greeting that had Reyja still completely, her eyes widening as she stared straight ahead of herself.

“Hail, Companion!” the old woman was cordial and jovial, “Mead or Ale?”

“Liquor if you got it,” was the gruff reply, the voice sending a shiver down her spine.  She tried to be covert as she turned her head very briefly, nonchalantly really, towards the entrance.  Her eyes almost closing as she pretended to look down but was really looking through her lashes.

And found a pair of silver eyes  _ completely _ focused on her.  She gasped and turned her head away from the door, trying desperately to blend into her stool, her heart trying its damnedest to come out of her body.  She turned about twenty different shades of red, and peered into her mug as though the meaning of life could be found within. 

She closed her eyes and took a drink from her mug as she heard his booted heels walk towards her and stop behind her.  She could see his shadow on the wall in front of her, he was  _ directly _ behind her, his shoulders and head clearly visible.  She took a deep swallow when two gauntleted hands placed themselves on the counter on either side of her elbows, crowding her completely.  He was looming over her, and she could feel his hot breath against her crown.

“What is your name, female?” he’d dropped his voice to a whisper.

She swallowed another mouthful, grabbing liquid courage. “Olfi—” she blushed as she immediately corrected herself and started rambling like a complete idiot, “No!  That’s my cousin! I don’t know why I said her name!” she mumbled, her eyes clenching close, “I’m Reyja!” she almost yelled it, “My name is Reyja!” she cleared her throat awkwardly as she mentally kicked her own ass.  She never once turned to look at him.

“Reyja,” he purred her name, and she swore he bent his head down and took a deep breath close to her head (his shadow said so).  She buried her nose in her mug and practically downed it. She was starting to feel good now, the pain her hands all but gone. “I’m…” she barely heard his name over the sudden commotion of a boisterous group entering the Bannered Mare (it had definitely ended with an ‘kas’ sound…).  Vilkas… Farkas… Fuck...

“Would you join me…” she didn’t hear the rest of it, instead she finished her drink and got to her feet.  As he didn’t move, when she straightened, her back was flush to his armoured front and she gasped and blushed simultaneously.  A solid arm came around her midriff securing her to him as he lowered his head to whisper in her ear, “Is that a yes, Reyja?”

His hair tickled tickled her cheek and she lost the ability to breathe (Oh fuck was that ever a  _ yes _ …).  She’d go anywhere he wanted. “Yes.” It felt to her that only her lips moved, she’d made no sound, but he heard her as clear as though she’d yelled it.  He released her, gave Hulda a small bag of septims for the bottle of liquor (unbeknownst to Reyja, and a room), grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him.  

She said not a word as he practically dragged her up the stairs to a secluded room on the second floor that overlooked the patrons below.  He closed the door, and pushed her against its frame as his lips descended onto hers. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to his invading tongue.

He made her toes curl as his gauntleted hands ran his splayed fingers along her ribcage, down her back, and over her behind.  He grabbed two handfuls of her dress and lifted it. She moaned against his mouth. He rumbled, deep in his chest as he continued to lift her dress until it was high enough so that he could press his hands against her semi-bare ass ( _ cold steel! _ ).  She squeaked against him and turned beet red.  He chuckled and licked at the red spots appearing on her skin.  He buried his nose in her hair and closed his eyes as he inhaled deep her scent.  His chest expanded and he growled, his eyes flashing in the darkness almost like that of an animal in torchlight. 

The room was barely lit with the fire from downstairs being the only source light (neither clued to the fact that the door to the room’s balcony was wide open and anyone below would be able to hear them).  Her skin was rouged with marks from the scruff he sported (he’d been rubbing his face against her collarbone and throat), marking her.

He flipped her against the door without warning, with her dress up, her back to him.  She gasped, a high pitched hiss of breath as he nipped at her neck and shoulder from behind, pulling at the laces of her clothing.  The bodice of the dress gave and splayed open, revealing her already erect nipples. 

She squirmed against him, as he grabbed her smalls and ripped them off her body with one tug.  He tossed them somewhere over his shoulder. She yelped but it turned into a moan of pleasure as he pushed his hips into her behind.  She could feel the bulge that was his erection against her backside. He didn’t stop nipping and licking at her neck and shoulder as he reached down and began unclipping/unstrapping his armour, the whole time keeping her trapped against the doorway.

It dropped to the ground unceremoniously (piece by piece), and before she could openly ogled him properly, he was against her back, pushing her harder into the door.  His hot dick was pressed against the crack of her ass, his solid and hairy chest against her back. He reached around with one big hand to grab at her breast, tweaking her nipple, rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger.  She pressed her lips together and moaned, her smaller hand covering his. Her other reached backwards to grab at his hip. 

She groaned and then grunted in pain when he pulled on her nipple a little roughly before growling against her shoulder.  He reached down with his other hand, grabbed his dick and without warning plunged into her waiting depths. She keened and her eyes widened as he moved against her with harsh, deep thrusts.  There was nothing gentle about this. 

His teeth sunk into her shoulder and she screamed out in absolute pleasure.  Both oblivious to the fact that the room below had suddenly gone quiet, except for the odd popping sound that came from the fire pit.  All eyes were drawn up towards the open door where the cries of pleasure intensified as were the demands made by the woman (she was a vocal lover…).  

Olfina was staring in horror at the torn panties hanging from the rafters.  Her face the same succulent red that seem to draw attention (she’d recognized the voice screaming in pleasure ‘ _ for the big fucker to go harder’ _ ). 

The door of the room rattled as the Companion pounded against her unmercifully (she’d asked for this).  She wasn’t even formulating words anymore. He’d unlatched his teeth from her shoulder and moved them to the bed, somewhat.  It was more like she was on her knees on the floor, her chest and face buried in the bed while he knelt behind her, one hand on her hip, the other on the back of her neck, holding her down. 

There was a lewd sound of wet skin slapping wet skin that echoed in the room (in the whole of the Bannered Mare honestly).  He made feral noises behind her, his fingers digging almost painfully into her ass muscle because his grip was slipping on her damp flesh.  

The pace was no less brutal and she could not get away, with the bed against her front, and him at her rear.  She was trapped, with his hand pinning her down against the furs of the bed. She reached behind her head with both arms to grab at his wrist when he suddenly let go.  She was free for a second before he switched and grabbed a handful of her hair instead, pulling her back roughly against him. She felt her entire body clench as another powerful orgasm tore through her unmercifully.

He snarled and brought her up by the hair so that her back was against his front (she could feel the damp chest hair against her flesh and moaned at the contact).  He released her hair and reached around with both hands to grab at her breasts, pinching the nipples roughly as he continued to pump into her. She was practically whimpering by this point, her grey hair plastered to her body.  Her hands were against his side, her nails digging into muscles.

His big hands were squeezing her bosom so hard, she was going to be bruised in the morning.  Her head went back against his shoulder as she groaned. She was fast losing her strength and stamina, yet the big warrior behind her showed absolutely no sign of easing up.

He pinched both of her nipples causing her to keen loudly.  The noise echoed downstairs, and then there was a collective gasp from the gathering crowd as a deafening banging noise was heard (that was him moving them to the ground, she was on her back now).  The moaning turned into outright yells that were starting to sound like war cries and then she was muffled, though still clearly heard (he was kissing her now as his hips worked her). 

Jon had come to stand behind Olfina, not quite touching her but close, lowering his head so that his lips were at her ear, his breath fluttering her hair. “You’re related to that woman,” he whispered, his accent had thickened with his arousal.  Olfina’s eyes widened briefly and she turned her head to look at him, a blush to her cheeks. Their eyes held and she gasped at the heated look in his.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jon urged, his hand coming up to just touch her dress, he pulled away before they made contact though.  Olfina’s eyes widened even more as more banging noises echoed in the tavern followed by what could only be described as bellowing to the rafters.

You could hear the crickets chirping in the silence that now engulfed the inn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love! 
> 
> Comments are life!

### 3

    Reyja woke up with a headache that would make Talos beg for mercy and she was sore in places she didn’t know she could be sore at.  Her crotch was on fire, her thigh muscles were screaming from her just moving her legs. Her shoulders, waist, breasts and neck were covered in bruises from both the Companion’s hands and mouth.

    Her eyes shot open and she sat (gods that hurt!) up in the big bed.  She wasn’t alone in the room, the big Nord that was responsible for her suffering was laying beside her, snoring, still in a deep sleep.  She was staring at the back of his head, he had shaggy black hair that was a complete mess. Which one was he?

    She rubbed her face lethargically and grabbed a fur blanket from the bed to wrap it around her body so she could go over to the wash basin across the room.  She tensed and made a small gasping noise as she splashed her face with cold water. What had possessed her…?

    She pressed her lips together and glanced back towards the bed.  He hadn’t moved. She licked her lips and tiptoed back towards the bed.  She was quick to drop the fur and pick up all her clothes (where was her underwear?).  She pulled the dress over her head, balled her her breast wrap and stuffed it in one of her pockets.  She peeked under the bed and all the furniture just in case her panties had ended up there.

    A mental curse when she saw nothing.  She had to get out of here… and quietly.  She straightened and tiptoed towards the door.  Her sneak improved by the second. The wooden door proved to be more difficult to open silently and took her a good ten minutes to close once she was on the outside.

    There was not a soul downstairs in the Tavern, so Reyja booked it.  She ran as fast as she could outside, and up the stairs to the Wind District.  That she wore nothing beneath her dress made her feel naked and she blushed as she reached her Uncle’s house.  Please, please, please let them all be asleep…

    “Please…” she whispered as she pulled the door open.

    And came face to chest with her Uncle Eorlund.  If there ever was a time where Reyja wished the ground would open up and swallow her, it was now that her Uncle was staring down at her with his arms folded and an eyebrow arched did not bode well for her.  She closed the door behind her and leaned against the frame, head bowed, waiting for doom to befall her.

    “Just getting home?” he asked, his mustache twitching.

    She turned a guilty red and averted her eyes as she panicked inwardly.  What could she say?! _What could she say?!_ “Yes…” she mumbled, turning an even darker colour.  Honesty always worked with her Uncle…

    “You know,” he rubbed his beard, “I understand that you’re young,” he remarked and she felt like he’d just called her a child, “But next time you jump into bed with a Companion,” Her eyes widened, _how had he known?!?_ She’d suddenly become two inches tall, “Can you at least close the door to the balcony. (what…?)  The whole town heard you, girl.” He was staring at her through half-lidded eyes (FUCK!!!!), “I know things are probably different in the Imperial City ( _Oh dear gods, no…_ ),” his voice had taken on that lecturing drone that could put anyone to sleep.

    “Uncle Eorlund…” she licked her dry lips and raised a hand, interrupting him before he began, “I was drunk…” she explained lamely, closing her eyes and blushing brightly.  Please ground! OPEN!!

    A deep, long suffering sigh escaped her uncle, and he unfolded his arms as he put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “I’ve been working you too hard, haven’t I?”

    Her eyes almost popped out of her head and she shook her head quickly. “Oh no!  Not at all, Uncle!” she was quick to reiterate for fear he would stop teaching her.  She couldn’t have that happen! “I just wanted to be with Olfina and she was working! So I started drinking...”

    “Working?” Eorlund harrumphed, “Or making goo-eyes at young Battle-Born?” And just like that Reyja betrayed her cousin with a mal-timed blush and her Uncle knew immediately without her having to say a word. “I already know,” he muttered as she looked at him mortified, silently pleading with him, “I’ve known for twenty years,” he added, peering at her.

    Reyja brought up both her hands to cover her face as if to hide her shame, and then lowered them to look at her Uncle, “Why don’t you tell her then?”

    “Because she needs to face me herself when she is ready,” Eorlund said simply, his eyes intent on hers, “She’s a Gray-Mane, she will face her fears.”

    Reyja pressed her lips together and sighed heavily.  She doubted Olfina would approach her father with her secret any time soon.  She was terrified that he would find out... and had flat out rejected Reyja’s proposal that she tell her Uncle.  That he already knew… had known… was bitter irony…

    “What was his name?” her Uncle was quick to change the subject suddenly and Reyja’s eyes widened and she buried her face in her clammy palms as she turned beet red.

    She made a whine-like noise when her uncle said almost knowingly, “It was Vilkas, wasn’t it?”

    “I don’t know…” she wailed, her face hot, her voice muffled behind her hands, “I didn’t hear his name…”

    There was a heavy silence that you could probably have heard a snowberry drop from a hundred paces.  She kept her face hidden, she felt like she was sweating pebbles, until finally she lowered her hands very slowly to find her Uncle staring at her in mild surprise, his lips pressed together and fighting a smile.

    She blushed even brighter as he suddenly chuckled and closed his eyes as he shook his head. “Well now,” he cleared his throat, “Was he tall or short?”

    “They’re both tall next to me!” she squeaked, indignant.

    “Hair was long or short?” She closed her eyes as she tried to remember, but all she could see in her mind’s eye was the way it had stood on ends when she’d left.  Fuck!!!

    “I don’t know!” she wailed.

    “You remember his steel?” her uncle asked, eyeballing her.

    “No!” she moaned, she hadn’t even seen a weapon on him, “He wasn’t wearing one!”

    “Oh he was, you just weren’t looking at that,” her uncle countered quickly, his tone mildly disapproving, while she died a little more on the inside, this was fucking mortifying... “You see his armour at least before you jumped into bed with him?” she blushed brightly and tried to remember what his armour looked like.  Double fuck! (come on!)

    “I saw his eyes,” she whined, her head lowering.  Oh this was getting worse by the moment.

    “They both have silver eyes,” her uncle returned, he then sighed heavily, “I’ll ask Olfina.”

    There was a silence so heavy that it was felt. “May I go to bed, Uncle?” Reyja finally begged to be excused.

    “Go,” Eorlund jerked his head to the side and watched as she scurried up the stairs as quickly as she could go.  He shook his head slowly and took another deep breath. Today was going to be interesting.

***********

    Vilkas’ eyes had snapped open the moment the female had gotten out of bed, his beast had rumbled inwardly.  He’d closed his eyes as she’d returned to the bed and placed the fur on top of him. She was quick to get dressed and flee.  He was mildly amused that she made all the effort possible to sneak out of the room without waking him.

    He sat up the moment she was out of the room.  He took even less time putting his armour on and leaving the room then she’d had (he’d grabbed the whisky bottle).  He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair as he made his way back towards Jorrvaskr, where Farkas was waiting for him.

    “Well?” Farkas growled as Vilkas finally entered his room and sat at the bar his brother had in his room.  He placed the whiskey bottle on the counter.

    “Her name is Reyja,” he murmured, eyeing his brother. “Gray-Mane for sure.  The barmaid is her cousin.”

    “Did you…?” Farkas trailed off, he could smell her on his brother.

    Vilkas nodded. “Yes.”

    Farkas nodded and smirked. “And?”

    Vilkas took a moment to reply, “Be grateful you’re my twin.” And he meant it.  He wouldn’t have shared her with anyone else.

    “Oh, that good…” Farkas whistled and nodded slowly. “I am.”

    Vilkas nodded and took a drink from the whiskey bottle and then handed it to his brother.  Farkas grinned, took a drink and then licked his lips. “You think she’ll be find with the both of us?”

    “Only one way to know for sure,” Vilkas answered slowly.  

    Farkas nodded. “We’ll find out soon enough,” the big warrior grinned.

    Vilkas nodded and then stretched. “I didn’t sleep the best,” he muttered, “Gonna try to grab a couple more hours.”

    Farkas nodded again and reached out to clap his brother on the shoulder, “I’ll go and introduce myself.”    

    Vilkas stifled a yawn and clapped his brother back before he turned on his heels and entered his own room.  He didn’t bother removing his armour as he fell into his bed. He really hoped the female would accept Farkas… It was the only way they had determined they would ever find a partner that wouldn’t separate them.  They could not bear to be apart, so they would naturally have to bond to the same woman, or sisters (that had never happened though while the former happened all the time).

    It was common knowledge that they shared.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love! 
> 
> Comments are life!

### 4

    The rhythmic pounding of her Uncle's hammer was almost hypnotic.  She was lost to the sound, bent over the grinder as she was, sharpening yet another sword.  She was so focused that when a shadow fell over her, she got irritated. Reyja pressed her lips together and raised her head to glare death at whoever stood over her.   

   Penetrating silver eyes were looking down at her from way up high.  She froze and blushed to the roots of her hair, her death-glare never made an appearance.  A small knowing smile was on his lips as he stared down at her. He was bigger than she remembered… and _wider_.

   "Hello Reyja," he said her name on a rumble and she gasped, her breath hitching.  His voice was deeper too.

   "Farkas," Eorlund cleared his throat, "Sword isn't ready."

   The big Nord broke eye contact and nodded towards her uncle, and then his eyes returned to hers.  He stared at her intently for a moment before opening his mouth, "Would you care to join me for a drink later?"

    Her eyes turned towards her Uncle who shrugged.  She blinked twice before turning back towards Farkas (thank you Uncle Eorlund!). "S-sure!" she stammered, her face beet red.  She'd stopped working the grinder for fear she'd hurt herself.

   He grinned down at her and then nodded his farewells to her Uncle before he left the Skyforge.

   "So it was Farkas then," Eorlund muttered mildly surprised, the pounding of his hammer echoing.

    She turned a darker red and ducked her head.  She had assumed it was Farkas because of the open way he'd been looking at her, as if he'd known her intimately.  Only a man she'd slept with would look at her like that.

    "I think so," she mumbled, staring at the big Nord until he was out of sight.

   Her uncle harrumphed and placed a sword at her feet. "Those blades aren't gonna sharpen themselves."

   She blushed and returned to work, giddy now.  

***********

   It was evening by the time her Uncle put his tools away.  She groaned under her breath and straightened. Reyja reached back to rub at her lower back soothingly.

   "Eorlund," she heard Farkas greet her Uncle and turned her head to glance in his direction.  He’d come up silently without her even noticing him.

    The big Nord was looking at her with a ready smile on his lips.

   "Farkas," Eorlund greeted back, and then his pale eyes landed on Reyja. "Will you be home tonight?"

  "I think so," she mumbled, blushing brightly, eyeing Farkas warily.

   "I'll walk her home," Farkas reassured her Uncle, "Unless she passes out."

   Her Uncle harrumphed again and left her alone with the Companion.  

   "Come," Farkas said slowly, turning on his heels and walking down the stairs.  She stared after him for a moment before she cleared her throat and followed mutely behind.

   She'd assumed that they were going back to the Bannered Mare, and was surprised when he opened the big doors of Jorrvaskr instead.  He paused on the threshold and waited for her. He wrapped an arm about her neck when she was close enough and guided her past the tables laden with food, surrounding a big fire pit in the floor of the building.  She didn't really have time to admire the surroundings, they went down the stairs, and through more doors.

   Though they passed other people along the way, none talked to her directly.  A couple greeted Farkas and one woman eyed her curiously (she had silver eyes as well).  Farkas didn't stop until he turned a corridor and pushed the door to his room opened.

   Reyja was surprised to note that there was a bar in his room.  He released her and motioned to a stool in front of the counter.  She sat down and smiled at him shyly as he placed a wooden mug of ale in front of her.

    “Unless you prefer whiskey?” the Companion arched a black eyebrow in her direction.

    She shook her head and sipped at her drink slowly.  Farkas grabbed the whiskey bottle (she noted it was the same one from the night before, this only reaffirmed her assumption) and sat in the stool beside hers, he’d turned so that his entire body was facing her.  

    She blushed as he smiled down at her warmly, his eyes crinkling a little. “Planning on taking over the Skyforge?”

    She swallowed a mouthful and shrugged. “I don’t know.  I actually specialize in making jewellery, not weapons,” she explained, not meeting his eyes.  She liked the sound of his voice.

    “Jewellery?  Like rings and such?”

    “Yes,” she’d nodded, “My father runs a small shop in Kvatch, he was a renown smith,” she smiled sadly, “All us Gray-Manes have an affinity with smithing of some kind, but anyways—”

    They talked for hours.  She didn’t even notice the time passing or how many times he’d refilled her mug.  They spoke of their childhood: hers, of traveling across the world with her father, until he settled in Kvatch ten years ago and her aspirations of becoming a master jeweller (her Uncle would be hard to beat); his (and Vilkas’), their life in Jorrvaskr since their father had dropped them off (he’d told her how he’d died in the Great War), their rise through the ranks, and comical stories of things he and his brother had done as children to the older members of the Companions.

    She found herself laughing, crying and gasping.  Reyja was actually enjoying herself immensely when Farkas’ voice finally trailed off and he took a long pull from the bottle of whiskey he’d been drinking from all night.  He was still sitting, facing her, his long legs parted, his right arm resting on the counter.

    “Are you sore from last night, little female?” he asked suddenly, surprising her and making her blush to the roots of her hair.

    She cleared her throat awkwardly and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.  In all the hours that she had been with him, this was the first time that they’d mentioned what had happened the night before in the Bannered Mare.

    “Not really,” she croaked and then coughed, “I mean, I’m sore, but I worked all day too,” she said lamely, “It’s not all your fault…” she smiled shyly at him.

    He looked puzzled for a moment and then he chuckled faintly. “Blaming me for your pain?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

    “You were a little rough,” she squeaked and then took a mouthful of ale to lubricate her dry throat.  His silver eyes were intent as they stared at her, just as intent as they had been the night before.

    “How about I show you how gentle I can be then?” he murmured, getting to his feet in front of her.

    Her eyes widened and she downed the rest of her drink (how many was that…?  Four? Five?). She sputtered as the alcohol hit her stomach pretty hard and blushed as he came to stand right in front of her.  She was at eye level with his chest.

    “All right,” this was said in a small voice that made her turn a deeper shade of red as she realized what she'd uttered.  He’d grinned and lifted her from the stool so that she sat on the bar (the wood moaned), she was almost at eye level with him now.

    He was deliberate as he parted her legs with his big body, bringing them into contact from crotch to chest,  He lowered his head and very gently placed his lips against hers. She groaned against his mouth as he ran his tongue against the seam of her mouth.  She cracked her lips and he invaded.

    He rumbled, his chest vibrating.  He was slow to pull away, and when he did, she noticed he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her, his wide chest expanding.  Goose flesh exploded across her back and shoulders and she couldn’t help squirming in place.

    He straightened against her and without taking his silver eyes off of hers, started undoing the straps and buckles of his armour.  He removed his gauntlets first, and dropped them to the ground heedlessly, the thud echoed. The chestplate fell away and he leaned it against the counter.  He stood only in leather breeches and boots. His silver eyes practically glowing in the low candle light (she’d swear reflective…).

    Farkas grabbed both of her hands and placed them against his hairy chest so that her fingers splayed against his muscles.  She squeaked as he moved her hands down his abdomen tortuously slow to the strings holding his pants closed. He released her and reached up to grab her chin.  Farkas tilted her head up and gave her a long, toe-curling Dibellan kiss that sent a shiver down her spine that felt like lightning. Whoever had said the Companions didn't use magic, had never been kissed by Farkas.

    “I like your touch,” Farkas growled as her fingers brushed against his erection through his pants. “Touch me more.”

    She moaned and pulled on the string of his breeches, emboldened by his noises.  The flaps parted and sagged as she loosen the strings, her hands shook every time she accidentally touched his dick with her knuckles.  His chest vibrated and he stepped out of his pants as they fell away, leaving him in his small clothes, his cock outlined perfectly as it pushed up against the material, a wet spot at the very tip.  

    Reyja was still fully dressed.

    He pushed himself more into her (the wood in the bar creaking with his movements), his lips meeting hers as his big arms wrapped around her body very gently.  She groaned (lost to the lust by now) and palmed him fully, wrapping her fingers around his shaft over his small clothes.

    His tongue swirled and touched hers.  He tightened his hold on her for a moment before he started pumping his hips against her hand very slowly (more creaks… getting louder now).  She gasped, her air invading his mouth. He growled against her, almost uncontrollably.

    He pulled his hips away from her suddenly, his mouth was still connected to hers though.  He shook his head against hers before he gasped. “Too much,” Farkas murmured, his voice thick with lust. “You tease me, little female…”

    She smiled shyly and wrapped her arms about his neck, bringing her mouth to his this time.  He moaned and returned his body to hers, grinding into her again. She raised her thighs and wrapped her legs about his waist, her dress hitching to mid-thigh.  He could feel the heat from her core, even through all the layers separating them.

   His beast snarled in his mind, demanding he take ( _Now_!), but Farkas remained in control.  He allowed her warmth to envelop him, to burn him.    

    “Take me?” she asked against his ear, her voice breathless.  She didn’t wait for him to answer, rather she pressed an open-mouth kiss to his lips, her tongue invading _his_ mouth now.   

    He rumbled and deliberately tightened his hold on her, pressing her against his massive frame.  “Spread your legs, little female,” he murmured, his voice like gravel, “Let your male taste you.”

    She whimpered as his words were whispered directly into her ear, his voice heavy with promise.  She felt her entire body shudder, but Reyja obeyed, loosening her ankles from behind his back and spreading her knees on the bar.  The wood creaked ominously as he knelt between her parted legs and buried his face in between her legs. Inhaling as he went, despite the many layers of clothes that separated them.

    She darkened to a beautiful tomato red as he parted her dressed, exposing her soaked smalls to his gaze.  A small cry escaped her mouth when he nibbled at her inner thigh, all her muscles tensed. He groaned in pleasure as he licked over her wet underwear from her entrance to her clit, broadening his tongue, she gave a shaky mewl, like a kitten.

    He liked the sound she made so much that he licked her like that again, just to hear it again.  She did not disappoint, except this time it was breathier. He growled against her legs and nipped the tender flesh barely exposed.  She gasped and her legs tried to close themselves (he prevented that from happening) when he ripped her smalls from her body (again for those counting) and tossed them over his shoulder.

    Her folds glistened with her arousal and he smirked before he lowered his head and feasted.  She keened at the first touch of his warm tongue, he circled the bud with hard, slow strokes, grazing his teeth against it every now and then.

   She moaned and threw herself back.  What had started as a moan of pleasure finished as a yelp of surprise as she almost fell off the bar.  Thankfully Farkas had a good grip on her legs that all that happened was an _almost-topple_ and she'd grabbed his hair (first thing she kept in contact with as she'd panicked briefly). She'd almost turned purple in embarrassment.

   He growled against her core (that didn't help…) before he wrapped his arms about her and stood up.  He lifted her easily (she'd released his hair) and moved her to his bed. She refused to make eye contact with him despite his every effort.  She was on her back and he'd settled himself in between her legs, his forearms on either side of her waist.

   "You're all right?" Farkas asked, his voice gruff.  She swallowed and nodded. He chuckled obviously relieved and she blushed brightly, "Oops?" he grinned at her, "Now where were we, little female?" he purred and then his knowing grin widened, "Ah yes," he winked at her, "you were going to come for me."

   She gasped as he got to his knees in between her legs, it was followed by a squeak.  He'd gotten under her dress and was already laving her pussy with his tongue.

   Reyja arched back on the bed, her hands grabbing his head through her clothes.  Her legs tensed, but he'd pushed them down with his arms. He'd spread her nether lips with his thumbs, exposing her pearl completely.  Farkas was deliberate has he nibbled, licked and sucked. He loved how she moaned and gyrated in his arms.

   He almost howled when he tasted her orgasm and her small hands buried themselves in his hair, holding him to her.  His beast growled in his mind, trying to take control and when that failed, keened. He pulled away from her core and licked his lips as he straightened on his knees.  

    She looked like a sleepy cat that had gotten the cream.  He smirked down at her. "And we're just getting started, little female," he cooed down at her, there was a world of promise in his tone, and her eyes widened as his _glowed_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

###  5

She’s got no idea what time it was when she woke. The rooms beneath Jorrvaskr were windowless and warm without being overbearing.  Her skin felt cool where the fur blankets didn’t cover her flesh and warm where they did. 

But her back felt  _ especially _ warm. 

She felt him behind her, touching chest to thigh. His barrel chest with its thick hair was plastered to her back. His wide arm over her thin waist and curled about her chest, his palm gently holding her already-bruised breast.

Reyja let herself bask in it, for just a moment. But she had to be home, she needed to…  _ she didn’t want to _ .  She was loathe to budge, but found her body gently trying to move without waking the burly Companion in the bed behind her.  She got as far as grasping his wrist to pull his arm from her waist before a rumble came from his chest. The proximity had her vibrating along with him, and just like that, she was on her back (wait—).  A gasp on her lips as Farkas hovers over her. A grin to his lips, his dark hair tangled over his silver eyes. 

“Mnnn, it’s not quite dawn yet, little female.” His voice was rough, rumbling and it hit her in the lower belly like a punch to the gut.

“I… I s-should go… h-home…” Her voice trailed off as his gaze was nearly unblinking, steady and focused so completely on her so couldn’t draw a full breath to finish what she was trying to say (Mara’s Mercy, she almost felt like prey).

He rumbled again, and moved down to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.  His hands moving to grasp her own, fingers entwined with hers as he continued to softly kiss her breathless.  When he finally pulled back she was panting.

“If that is what you want.” And he moved from her, the heat that had been enveloping her poofing like it had never been, sending a chill down her back.  Startled, Reyja blinked when her dress was handed to her. The fabric rumpled and bunched in his large fist.

She smiled gently in thanks and took the dress from him, blushing when he simply continued to lounge on his bed with a grin.  He was watching her through half-lidded eyes as she clothed herself. He eventually took a deep breath, sat up and started pulling his armour on, languidly strapping and buckling it back on.

She arched an eyebrow in his direction and he answered without looking up from what he was doing. “I told your Uncle I’d walk you home.”

“That’s not necessary…” she said, her voice small and her face red.

“You won’t change my mind,” he muttered, straightening, his eyes narrowing briefly.

She swallowed thickly. “I guess not...”

They were quiet as they left his room.  There was not a soul awake (she could hear the snoring of multiple people).  Farkas stayed by her side faithfully as they walked out of Jorrvaskr (it was dark, the moons barely lighting the way, it didn’t seem to affect Farkas any), and down the steps towards the Gildergreen.

They were at her front door a few moments later.  Farkas had leaned his forearm against the door frame, over his head and was looking down at her.  She was staring up at him, a shy smile on her lips as she blindly reached for the door handle (she missed and was touching the wood absentmindedly…).

He smiled back down at her and opened the door for her.  She blushed and without warning grabbed him by the collar of his armour to bring him down to her level.  Despite her small stature, Reyja was strong and Farkas almost lost his balance as she yanked on him for a quick kiss.

He growled against her mouth, and was about to wrap his arms about her body when she released him and scooted inside, practically slamming the door in his face.  Farkas chuckled to himself and turned on his heels to go back home. 

************

Vilkas was laying in bed reading  _ Herbalist’s Guide to Skyrim _ when Farkas walked into his room without knocking, and closed the door behind him before sitting on the end of his bed.  He noted the page he was on and closed the book, putting it on the nightstand.

“She can’t tell us apart,” Farkas chuckled faintly.

Vilkas frowned. “What?”

“She thinks it was me in the Bannered Mare.”

Vilkas blinked in surprise. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I am,” Farkas grinned widely, Vilkas’ face expression was priceless.  

Vilkas glowered at his brother. “Why did you go along with it?”

Farkas shrugged. “Why not?  Been years since we’ve been mistaken one for the other,” he said casually.

Vilkas shook his head slowly and rubbed a weary hand down his face.  His brother was an idiot. There was really no denying it. Vilkas sighed heavily and laid his head down on the pillow to stare at the ceiling.

“You’re an idiot,” Vilkas muttered.

“Maybe,” Farkas returned amused, he winked at his brother, “But I think she prefers me now.”

Vilkas didn’t bother retorting.  He hadn’t wanted her deceived. He’d assumed she had known who he had been, he’d introduced himself.  Had she been too drunk to remember? There was a marked size difference between him and Farkas, hair and voice were different, they didn’t even have the same armour...

“I can see the steam working,” Farkas got to his feet, “I’ll let you untangle the mess then,” he grinned at his brother, despite the latter not paying attention to him any more and walked out of his room, leaving Vilkas alone with his thoughts.

***********

   Reyja had leaned back on the front door after she'd slammed it in his face.  Her eyes had closed and she'd winced. Hopefully no one heard that…

   She tiptoed up the stairs to the room she shared with her cousin.  Olfina was spread out on the bed, leaving not an inch of space for Reyja.  She was too tired to care and just curled up in a ball on the floor. She wasn't going to fight her cousin for a sliver of the bed.

    And that's how her Uncle found her when he came in to wake Olfina for the morning meal.

    "So you did come home," Eorlund had shaken her awake.

    She'd moaned and turned to her side, rolling into a tight ball. "Five more minutes…" she'd mumbled.

    Her Uncle had laughed and shook her again, a little rougher. "Wake up girl.  The forge won't work itself." 

   This time when she opened her eyes, she stayed awake. "I'm up…" she muttered under her breath.

Eorlund had already moved on to waking Olfina and was out of the room before both women were on their feet.

   "You're home," Olfina smiled at her as she stretched "I was sure you would have stayed the night with Vilkas."

    "Farkas, you mean," Reyja corrected her, "And I wanted too…" she took a deep breath and then frowned as she caught Olfina's expression.  

    "Farkas too?" both of Olfina's eyebrows raised, and she stood in front of the wash basin, stock still.

   "Farkas only," Reyja reiterated, not liking what her cousin was implying.  

   "Rey," Olfina licked her lips, "It was Vilkas you slept with at the Bannered Mare…"

   Reyja shook her head, "No, it was Farkas.  We talked about that and he…" she trailed off as she tried to remember what Farkas had actually said.  

    "Trust me, it  _ was _ Vilkas," Olfina washed her face in the cold water and chuckled as she dried her face, "How can you  _ not _ tell them apart?"

    Reyja had gone silent as she stared at her cousin in both humiliation and horror. "Fina…" she moaned, and then hid her face in her hands.

    Had Farkas lied to her?  He hadn't exactly said it was him at the Bannered Mare, but he hadn't denied it either or corrected her assumption.  Why had he done that? And why would he have slept with her if Vilkas was the one… fuck… she was not a toy that they could have their fun with.  She pressed her lips together angrily, her eyes narrowing at nothing in particular.

   "Oh," Olfina smirked as she moved away from the wash basin, "I can see the Legendary Gray-Mane temper coming to life in those eyes of yours."

    "I'm going to kill him," she growled angrily as she washed her face, scrubbing harder than was necessary. "He made a fool of me."

    Olfina chuckled and waited for her to finish before both women made their way down the stairs to the table where a breakfast of warm, crusty bread and cheese awaited them.  Eorlund and his wife both had already left for the day leaving the girls alone.

   Reyja was tearing into her bread and cheese with what Olfina determined was righteous fury, and she smiled to herself.  

    Farkas was a dead man walking.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

###  6

   Vilkas was outside, an iron shield strapped to his left arm, training with a couple new whelps when he saw her walking towards the Skyforge.  He reminded himself that he needed to talk to her later, to clear up the confusion his brother caused. 

    He put the matter from his mind and returned his attention to the new bloods, a Bosmer and a Nord.  Their form was crap, the Nord had promise though, he was young enough he could learn. The Bosmer he wasn't sure about yet.

   "Come at me again," Vilkas called to the pair, taking a defensive stance.

   They came one after the other, swinging their sword at him.  He blocked with his shield. In a real fight, he would have smashed his shield in their face, disarmed them and killed them with their own weapons…

    He saw movement from the corner of his eye that shouldn't have happened.  His keen hearing heard the hurried scuff of boots against the ground. He turned automatically and raised his shield just as a long steel sword was coming down on him.

    His eyes widened as he realized what was happening.   _ Reyja was attacking him _ !

Her eyes, pale blue like the sky on a clear summer day, shone with unshed tears of fury as she raised the sword again.  That she was wielding a long two-handed sword so effortlessly didn’t surprise Vilkas, she was a smith after all.

“You fucking lecher!” she snarled savagely at him, he ducked behind his shield and braced himself for impact.    


He was quick to grab the blade of her sword when it struck him, and then used his shield to knock it out of her hands.  He may have disarmed her, but Reyja was not done. She was a full blooded Nord through and through. She made to right hook him but he sidestepped expertly, dodging her small fist.  Vilkas did not hesitate in grabbing her left wrist and pulling her towards him. She screamed and struggled like a sabre cat.

“Hey!” Vilkas barked.

“You lied to me!” she screeched, punching him with her free hand and then she grunted when he flung his shield away and grabbed her with both arms, pinning her effectively against him.    


“Hey!” Vilkas repeated, harsher.

“Fuck you!” she hissed, fighting against him despite not having her arms.  She spit in his face instead.

“I was going to talk to you,” Vilkas grated out, and then cursed as she stomped on his foot with the heel of her boot.  He hefted her up and shook her so hard that her teeth rattled in her head. “Stop!” he snarled viciously.

She blinked and gave her head a shake.  Vilkas pressed his lips together and gritted his teeth.  He was going to beat the piss out of Farkas for this.

“I trusted you!” she growled at him, her eyes narrowing to slits of unbridled wrath, “I slept with you thinking it was with you I was with  _ originally _ !” her voice raised angrily, “ _ I am not a whore _ !” she snarled savagely, her struggles starting up again.  The whelps were staring at them in wide-eyed surprise. Great.

Vilkas straightened as he suddenly realized that she thought  _ he _ was Farkas.  Apparently she wanted to knock the piss out of Farkas as well. “I’m Vilkas!” he hissed, lowering his head so that their eyes were within two inches of each other.     


That shut her up.    


She stilled completely and her own pale eyes stared him down.  She was taking the time to look at his face. He remained unmoving, keeping eye contact with her, unblinking, unwavering.  He watched as she slowly started blushing, her skin rouging until she was as red as a tomato, her eyes closed. He straightened then, hugging her to his chest (he’d released her arms) so that she could hide against him.  He turned so that the new whelps couldn’t see her face anymore either. His eyes narrowed on them, they straightened beneath his glare.

“Get!” he snapped, nodding towards the doors of Jorrvaskr.    


They disappeared, leaving him in the training yard, alone with Reyja.  She’d raised her hands to hide her face, despite the fact that she was buried against his chest, her shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry…” she said in a small voice, it was muffled but he heard her clear as day.  All the fight had left her.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.    


    "I'll see to it that Farkas gets your message," he muttered, glancing down at the crown of her head.  He would definitely make sure his brother was barely conscious after he was done with him.

    "I thought…he...you..." her voice was small and he hugged her tighter.    


    "You weren't suppose to be deceived," he murmured finally.

    "You knew?" she actually raised her head to look at him, her eyes flashed.

    "Yes," he nodded, he maintained eye contact and continued, "This might be hard to explain…" he sighed heavily, and lowered his arms from about her body.  Hard to explain was an understatement… how do you explain to a non-werewolf female that they were a pack and that sharing her was their intention all along?  One female would not separate them, and between them they could protect her (and future pups) better.

    "Try," her eyes had narrowed again.

    "We've never been parted," he said as though that explained everything and then sighed heavily as she continued to stare at him expectantly.    


    "So you share your women?" she said for him, her voice was unnaturally calm.

   "Yes," he agreed and then seeing her face expression, back-pedaled, "No, I mean," he growled under his breath and started again, "Think of us as one man," he said lamely, "One soul, two bodies." He held up one finger and then two.

    "So you share your women," she repeated, peering at him.

    He took a deep breath and nodded, his shoulders slumping.  That really was the best explanation bar the truth. "Yes." 

She stared at him for a minute more before she turned on her heels, retrieved her weapon that he’d sent flying and slowly left the training yard of Jorrvaskr.  Reyja was almost out of sight before she stopped, and turned her head to look at him. “I just…” she sighed heavily, “I need to think about all this…” she trailed off, her pale eyes gazing at him.

He nodded and watched her disappear.  His hands had fisted at his side and he gritted his teeth as he immediately entered the mead hall.  He had a message to deliver to his brother that could not wait.

************

Olfina was discussing market prices with Ysolda by the town well when she spotted her cousin walking down the stairs that led to the Wind District.  She frowned as she noted Reyja was carrying a two-handed sword and her face was red. 

“Excuse me, Ysolda,” she nodded towards the merchant wannabe and hastily made her way towards her cousin.  Reyja grabbed her hand and led her towards the city gates. 

“I need to talk to you,” Reyja muttered, practically dragging Olfina behind her.

“What is it?” Olfina asked once they’d stopped close to Adrianne’s shop.

“They share their women,” she stated bluntly, putting her hands on her hips and straightening.

Olfina arched an eyebrow. “Okay…” she trailed off and invited her cousin to continue.

Reyja stared at her cousin in disbelief. “They want to share me!” she reiterated angrily, glaring at her cousin.

“Oh!” Olfina blinked and then frowned, “Between them or with other men?”

“Fina!” Reyja moaned, getting frustrated.

“What?” she muttered, “I don’t know the particulars!”

Reyja pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, “Between them.  I don’t think they’d share me with other men.”

“How do you know?” Olfina countered.

“I…” Reyja frowned and then her shoulders sagged, “I don’t know… Fina!” she wailed, “You’re not making this easy!”

“Life is not easy,” Olfina said as she hugged her cousin, “What do you want?”

Reyja hugged her back and sighed again. “I don’t know!  I can’t tell them apart...”

“Then how about you work on that so that you  _ can _ tell them apart and then decide who you want the most.”

Reyja pulled away from her cousin and nodded. “You’re right.” 

************

Farkas hit the far wall in his room hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs.  He cursed under his breath as Vilkas appeared right in front of him and started pummeling his gut with rapid short burst punches that hurt like a son of a bitch (ow, ow, ow, ow!).  Between the two of them, Vilkas was faster and smarter while Farkas packed more of a punch and could take the mother of all beatings (he was very good at it too…). 

A forearm went against his chest preventing him from doubling over while Vilkas leaned in close, his silver eyes glared at him wrathfully.     


“Okay!  Okay!” he groused, his stomach hurting, he looked down at Vilkas with as much contrition as he could muster, “I’m sorry!”

Vilkas snorted and lowered his arm deliberately.  Farkas was still tense, he didn’t think his brot… he never got to finish the thought as Vilkas punched him in the face.  He doubled over and grunted. That one hurt…. 

His eyes widened briefly and his shook his head quickly as he fought off the spell of dizziness.

“See to it that the female hears it,” Vilkas snapped, looking down at Farkas angrily.  He fisted both of his hands tightly, the leather of his gauntlets creaking, his fingers cracked ominously in the silence.

“She will,” Farkas groaned, straightening, his hand coming up to rub at his sore jaw.

Vilkas stared at him for a moment longer before he turned on his heels and left Farkas’ room, he closed the door behind him.  The younger brother leaned against the wall for a couple minutes, semi doubled over, clutching his stomach painfully. He didn’t move a muscle as he panted there, except for a small smile on his lips.

  
It had totally been worth it.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

### 7

    Reyja sat at the counter of the Bannered Mare sipping on a mug of ale her cousin, Olfina had bought her.  She’d been stressing over the situation with the twins so much that Olfina had decided that she should take the day off and enjoy a day of merriment.  She didn’t feel merry at all.

    She was fiddling with a gold septim coin, staring at the profile head of the Emperor on the one side of the coin.  She was minding her own business when a mage in a black robe sidled up to her and leaned on the counter heavily.

    “What’s the matter?” a male voice asked her.  She turned her head to the side and smiled briefly at the Breton mage that had come up beside her.

    “Nothing,” she mumbled, glancing down at the coin on the counter.

    “You’ve been staring at that coin for an hour now, looking like someone killed your favourite horse,” the Breton smiled at her encouragingly, “It helps to talk about it.”

    She shook her head. “Not in this case.”

    “Oh trust me,” he grinned and ran a hand through his thick brown hair, “It really does!”

    She took a deep breath and slowly released it.  Maybe he was right…

    “I have a friend,” she began, blushing slightly as she changed the story a little, “She’s caught between a pair of brothers,” she continued, and then sighed as she twisted the coin in her hand.

    “Oooo brothers!  Sounds salacious!” the Breton grinned at her and then winked.  She frowned.

    “Not really,” she muttered, and then blushed a dark red, “They’re twins.  She can’t tell them apart...”

    “So?” the Breton arched an eyebrow. “Flip a coin, if you can’t tell them apart, what does it matter which one you’re with?” She didn’t even noticed he’d inserted her rather than her friend.

    She opened her mouth to object (flip a coin, like really?) but instead her eyes lingered on the septim on the counter.  Flip a coin… Heads for Vilkas, tails for Farkas? She chuckled to herself silently. Why not? He was right, she couldn’t tell them apart to save her life… she blushed as she remembered her attack on Vilkas that very morning.  Perfect fucking example right there...

    “You smiled,” the Breton winked at her again, “Told you it would help to talk about it.”

    “Such simple advise,” she smiled a self-deprecating smile, a smirk really, “I’ll let her know,” she turned her head to smile at the mage warmly, “And you’re…?”

    “Just call me Sam,” the mage grinned widely and clapped her on the shoulder, “Let me know how it turns out.”

    Reyja nodded. “I will.”

    The Breton smiled back at her and bowed slightly before he placed a green, label-less bottle of wine in front of her. “Here,” he smiled, “Try this vintage, it’s a special brew that I made specifically for this kind of celebration.  Share with the twins,” he added with a wink.

    She blushed and nodded again as she grabbed the bottle. “I will.” She coughed, turned a darker red and corrected herself, “Tell her I mean.  I will tell her to!” she finally got out.

***********

    Olfina had managed to sneak out of the Bannered Mare without getting caught.  With her cousin at the bar, most would assume it was her and not question her disappearance (her cousin was awesome enough to answer to her name if it was shouted).  She was almost out of breath when she got to the back of the Tavern.

    She squeaked in surprise when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into a shadowed corner.  Warm, hard lips soon silenced her and she groaned against his mouth as Jon pulled her body close to his. “I’ve miss you…” he whispered against her mouth, his tongue plundering.

    Her arms wound themselves around his neck as he turned their bodies into the corner, pushing her into the wall, using his bulk to hide her smaller size.  Their lips did not part as he reached down and grabbed her ass through her dress, pushing his erection into her belly.

    “Marry me already,” he growled into her mouth, hitching her leg over his hip.

    “I can’t.... My family….” she spoke the words between kisses, “Your family…”

    “What about _our_ family?” he groaned against her lips as she brought him closer to her body with her leg. “I want to see you big with my babe…”

    Olfina groaned against him and pulled on his shirt until she could bury her hands beneath it.  His muscles twitched beneath her fingers as she grazed her nails down his pectorals to his taut abdomen.  She pulled at the belt at his waist, undoing it slowly when he pulled his head back to stare down at her intently, he’d stopped grinding against her.  One of his large hands had covered hers and was preventing her from opening his belt completely.

    “Olfina,” he murmured, his voice dropping, “I can’t keep stopping, it’s getting harder and harder…” he trailed off and took a deep breath, “Please talk to your father…”

    She frowned at him. “Jon…”

    He lowered his mouth to hers and gave her a Dibellan kiss that made her toes curl in her boots. “It’s Oblivion living this close to you and not being able to hold you when I want…” he forced himself to say it, “I love you, you’re my girl and I c-can’t…” he tripped over his own words and sighed heavily, “I’ll talk to your father if you want…” he pressed his forehead to hers just before she pushed him away from her.

    This _again_...

    “I told you no!   _I will talk to my father_!” she snapped angrily, upset at him for bringing it up now of all times, “You haven’t even talked to your father yet!” she pointed out, crossing her arms defensively across her chest, “And have you even talked to the Bard’s College yet?  You talk of our family but you’ve made no attempt at becoming a Bard.”

    He was doing up his belt that she’d loosened and frowned at her.  How had her talking to her father turned into his avoiding the Bard’s College _again_?  She was always turning it around on him… “You know I will be entering as soon as we are married,” he countered.

    “I am not going to live with your family while you study in Solitude!” she narrowed her eyes at him, “I want my own house, Jon!”

    He felt his eyebrow twitch as she repeated the same old song and dance, somehow turning it on him, making it his fault. “And we will have our own house eventually!” he returned, not quite believing what he was saying.  

    “When Jon?” she asked, fixing her hair that had gotten mussed in their pawing.

    “When you talk to your father,” he muttered and then turned on his heels and left her behind.  He was angry at her and himself. This was an old argument they’d had now for years it seems. Maybe it was time he sat down with his family and told them the truth.  He was twenty eight years old, if he didn’t strike out soon, he never would. He’d never have Olfina and they would never have kids, never have that farm she wants so desperately and those chickens she’d wanted to raise so badly.  He’d promised her all that years ago when they’d been children.

    He sighed heavily as he trudged home in the darkness, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped.  This war was costing him everything he valued. Olfina didn’t want to live with his family any more and Jon had never worked a day in his life…

***********

    Farkas was rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably just outside the Bannered Mare.  Vilkas was going to make him kiss the cobblestone if he didn’t get this over with and _soon_ .  He hadn’t taken into consideration that she would try and kill Vilkas (that she had assumed was _him_ …he gulped).  How would she react to him now…?  

    He squared his shoulders and mounted the steps like a man going to face the gallows.  He’d told Vilkas he would be nothing but honest to the little female, which meant he had to bite the sword and get this over with.  Maybe he’d get lucky and he’d just suffer a broken nose. He snorted and Vilkas was his sister. She was going to crush his bollocks.

    He recited a quick prayer to Talos, very much feeling like he was walking into a Silver Hand ambush, and pushed the door to the Bannered Mare opened.  His eyes found the little female at the bar and he took another deep breath. His wolf keened internally as Farkas made his way towards her quietly.

    Not a word was said until he stood beside Reyja at the bar, both of his hands on the counter.  His head was lowered contritely and he was staring at the counter. He was avoiding looking at her with everything he had.

    “I am very sorry,” he began slowly, his deep voice rumbling from his chest, “For playing that joke on you… it wasn’t meant to hurt your feelings...” he cleared his throat, “I’m not very good with words,” he muttered and then ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t want what I did to chase you away,” he turned his head to look at her.

    “Farkas?” she said his name very slowly without even looking at him.

    “Yes…” he blew out his breath and girdled himself.  She was going to hit him any second now.

    She turned her head in his direction, her blue eyes looking at him with consideration. “You and Vilkas up for a drink tonight?” she asked, grabbing the bottle Sam had left her by the neck.  Surprise and shock went through him, but still he was tense.

    Farkas arched an eyebrow and nodded cautiously, committing his brother without asking the latter. “Very much so,” he grinned at her hesitantly, relaxing a little.  

    She smiled at him and nodded back. “Then let’s take this party to your room, I’ll bring the booze, you bring your brother.”

    Farkas relaxed fully and beckoned the little female to follow him outside.  They didn’t say much to each other as he took her back towards Jorrvaskr. He was smiling ear to ear by the time he sat her on a bar stool in his room.  He held a finger up as he left briefly and returned a few moments later, a silent, wary Vilkas in tow.

    She placed the bottle of booze on the counter and cleared her throat. “Let’s talk about this sharing-your-women thing,” she began, looking at both of them.  

    Farkas went behind the bar and grabbed three wooden mugs and placed them on the counter.  He uncorked Sam’s bottle and sniffed the wine, a sound of approval escaped his throat unheeded as he began pouring generously into each cup.  He handed her one cup and grabbed the other two and returned to his brother’s side.

    She took a sip and without looking at them started asking some pertinent questions. “This sharing is just between you two, right?” She pointed to the both of them with two fingers, she was blushing like crazy beneath their intent gazes.

    “Yes,” Vilkas nodded, and took a sip of his drink, “Just us.”

    “How are you two okay with that…?”

    “We just are,” Vilkas answered without hesitation, Farkas was nodding in agreement, “Like I said before, we don’t want to be separated.” Farkas nodded again.

    “I understand that…” she licked her lips as she glanced down at her cup (that was some good wine…), “What if I don’t want both…?”

    “Then tell us now and we’ll walk away.” Vilkas didn’t even blink as he spoke.  She blinked in surprise, that had been... unexpected.

    “Oh… so it’s like that then…” she mused and Farkas nodded again, this time tossing his head back and finishing his mug in one long swallow.

    “Afraid so,” he nodded and clapped Vilkas on the shoulder and then he leaned forward and winked at her, “I’m curious though, it’s me you prefer right?” She wasn’t smiling when she looked at him.  Farkas snapped his fingers, and rubbed at his chin as he took a deep breath.

    Vilkas finished his drink (he was feeling pretty good already…?) and then approached the female deliberately, keeping his silver eyes on her throat where he could see her pulse.  It matched the drumming of her heart. She was excited and his wolf picked up on it instantly. “So what do you want, female?” he asked, grabbing her chin with his fingers and tilting her head up. “You want us as much as we want you, or are you going to walk away from us?”

    “Oh that’s good,” Farkas quipped quietly, “I like that.”

    She licked her lips and her eyes were staring at Vilkas intently before they turned towards him and then back to Vilkas.  Farkas didn’t know what she was looking for but he kept his eyes focused on her, and did not look away from her, his body tense (he could already feel the effects of the wine, now that was some good stuff).  

    Reyja took another sip from her drink (it pooled in her belly with a comfortable warmth) and smiled shyly. “I want you two... to…” she frowned momentarily to make sure what she said made sense and blushed prettily.  Farkas felt all his muscles lock as Vilkas purred in his chest and leaned forward to place his lips against hers.

    A huge grin split his face as he stepped forward beside his brother and the moment her mouth was free, he leaned forward and claimed her lips for himself.  He growled against her mouth and she shivered. There was no mistaken her arousal as it seeped into his nostrils.

    The wolf inside Farkas howled and fought to sink its teeth in her neck.  She had to be marked, to warn others that she belonged to their pack. She hissed suddenly against Farkas’ mouth, Vilkas had bitten her on the neck, his sharp teeth sinking into her flesh.

    The counter creaked ominously as Reyja was crowded from both sides.  She almost screamed when Farkas released her mouth and latch on her neck on the other side.  Vilkas had turned her head towards him and just when Farkas bit her, lapped at her mouth seductively.  He growled against her mouth, while her hand grabbed at his hair. Her other hand was against Farkas’ chest plate.

    A gauntleted hand grabbed at the bar and all went silent as the wood cracked loudly.  

    “Bed!” Farkas grabbed her at same time as Vilkas said the word and all three found themselves in Farkas’ big bed (Vilkas at her front, Farkas at her back).  They were both undressing her simultaneously, loosening her laces, lifting her dress (they were still fully armoured), her boots went flying somewhere and her smalls were ripped off and they went sailing across the room.     

    This was going to be the start of a wonderful night.   


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

###  **8**

There was something to be said about waking up sandwiched between two men.  Reyja discovered this as her eyes slitted open and she stretched languidly. Somehow, the conversation she’d had every intention of having with the twins had  _ somehow  _ ended up with all of them in bed.  All three of them.  _ What the fuck had happened last night? _

Her eyes fluttered completely open and she found that she was staring at a dark nipple nestled in a nest of black chest hair, sculpted muscles followed the rib cage.  Which one was she looking at? The burning heat at her back pulled away (and the heavy arm that had been draped over her waist moved) from her slowly. She heard one of the twins yawn loudly behind her. 

She didn’t know how long she lay there staring at the nipple, blinking in confusion as she wracked her brain for some form of memory of what exactly had transpired the night before.  The last thing she  _ clearly _ remembered was coming to Farkas’ room.  Her eyes traveled the length of the room that she could see without sitting up, cause she couldn't move: no windows and no outside light.  She was still in Jorrvaskr… ergo she was still in Farkas' room.

“What…?” the voice at her back was rough as though he hadn’t spoken in over a week.

“Farkas?” the bed vibrated in front of her.  So she was facing Vilkas… Farkas was at her back.

“Vilkas?” the bed creaked as the larger Companion sat up, bringing the furs up and off her shoulder, exposing the mark on the side of her throat. “Reyja!?” Farkas sounded both surprised and relieved at the same time. "I thought you were a dream…"

   Vilkas slowly sat up as well, his muscles bunching and flexing quite nicely.  His brows were furrowed as he glanced across Reyja to his twin sitting up on the other side of her.

  "Funny you should say that…" Vilkas trailed off, "I thought I was dreaming as well."

  As awkward as it was for her to just lay there, there wasn't much she could do about it.  Her body was so sore that the idea of moving actually hurt. She was very embarrassed and could feel their eyes on her, boring into her from both sides.

  She barely flinched when Vilkas reached towards her and moved aside her tangled grey hair, exposing her throat more clearly and the marks they'd both left on her.  His frown deepened. Farkas muttered under his breath and ran a hand through his hair. She just remained unmoving on her side, her eyes on Vilkas' muscular side.

  "Fuck…" he trailed off staring at her neck.

  Vilkas' hand dropped the lock of her hair and he took a deep breath.  Their reaction to what they had done to her made her a little nervous, so she cleared her throat and decided to find out what the fuss was about.  Without panicking and still laying down?

  "What is it?" her voice was calm, cool and collected in spite of her heart slamming against her ribcage.  What was their issue with the marks they left on her body?

  Farkas pressed his lips together and remained close mouthed, and it wasn't until her blue eyes landed on Vilkas that the latter let a heavy exhale escape.  He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair and slowly shook his head.

  "That wasn't supposed to happen…" he trailed off and grunted.

  "We marked you," Farkas burst out, "We mated to you—"

  "Shut up, Farkas," Vilkas snapped with authority at the same time as Reyja spoke.

  "Marked me?"

  Farkas nodded, and ignoring his brother's scowl, continued, "Wolves mate for life."

   "That's enough!" Vilkas snarled while Reyja struggled to a sitting position.  Wolves? What… The… Fuck…?

  "Wolves…?" she frowned, not bothering to hide how hard it was to just sit up.  Fuck!  _ What had happened last night? _

  Vilkas grabbed her arm with a large palm and helped her up.  He even gave her the furs that she wasn't able to pull up. "Don't listen to him."

  "Werewolves mate for—" Farkas explained, and then grunted when Vilkas punched him  _ hard _ .

  "I said shut up!" Vilkas hissed and then turned towards Reyja whose eyes had widened drastically, "Last night's drink is still addling his brain."

  Reyja blinked and licked her suddenly dry lips.   _ Werewolves…? _  Had she heard him right?  The way Vilkas was glowering at him told her she had… but that made no fucking sense…

  Her tongue came out again, but she had no saliva and the mother of all headaches was slowly making itself known in her skull.  She closed her eyes as she leaned back against the wall (the headboard really).

  He'd said werewolves.  She took a deep, calming breath.  They were fucking crazy…

  She slowly opened her eyes and found two sets of silver eyes trained on her intently, both staring at her.  Fucking insane… Both of them.

  Great.

  And she was sandwiched between them, her legs shaking weakly beneath the furs, naked as the day she was born.

  Just fucking great.

   She had to get out of here.

************

  Now he'd done it.

  That he'd blurted out their deep, dark secret to the little female meant Vilkas was going to hurt him.  And by that feral look in his eye,  _ hurt him bad _ .  

   He hadn't been able to stop himself either.  He'd awoken more tired than rested, groggy and confused (he still was a little) and with a raging hard-on that had been brought on by residual memories of the most erotic dream he'd  _ ever _ had involving Vilkas (And Reyja but that was a given).

 He felt himself blush as he stared at the mating marks on her neck.  That it hadn't been a dream, was a bit of a problem. They were bonded to her now.  What he'd said about mating for life was true. She was theirs now and they were hers. There was no going back, and no running away.  This was it for them…

  Farkas resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck as Reyja tore her eyes from Vilkas to stare at him.  Farkas recognized the look in her eyes. This was the first time he'd ever seen it directed at  _ him _ .  The beast inside paced (he wanted to pace too), she thought they were insane.  Damn it.

   "I need to go home," she mumbled, her eyes closing.  She rubbed her face with her hands weakly.

   Farkas rumbled and was about to say no when Vilkas spoke first. "You need more rest."  

  He nodded his agreement, silently.

  She took a very deep breath. "Away from you two."

  "We'll leave," Vilkas' eyes moved to his and he nodded towards the door.  Farkas didn't hesitate and jumped out of bed. He didn't care that he was naked though he did not miss the heated look that was thrown his way from the little female.  She still found him attractive so not all was lost.

  He didn't wait for Vilkas to follow and left his room, still nude.

************

   Vilkas waited until Farkas had left before making an attempt at clearing the air.

  "Listen," she cut him off before he could even start, "I don't know what happened last night," she wasn't looking at him, "but I am sore and tired and my head hurts…" she closed her eyes again, "I don't want to talk about this…not right now..."

  Vilkas licked his lips and nodded slowly.  He was deliberate as he moved to stand next to the bed, naked as well.  Unlike his brother though, he grabbed his clothing and armours off the floor and put them on before he left.  She was making a point of not looking at him, her skin turning a delicious red that had Vilkas wanting to lick her.  

   "Rest and leave when you are ready," he said slowly, "This can wait."

  She said nothing and he left Farkas' room quietly, closing the door firmly behind.  He was quick to enter his own room directly across the hall and found his brother partially dressed (he was wearing greaves and boots).

   Farkas lowered his head and sighed heavily as Vilkas stood in the doorway, scowling in silence.

  "I fucked up…" Farkas mumbled, looking every bit like a scolded child with his shoulders hunched and eyes to the floor.

  Vilkas nodded in agreement and pressed his lips together. "Aye, that you did," he took a deep breath and rubbed a weary hand up and down his face, "We'll be lucky if she ever speaks to us again after that comment…"

   Farkas was unable to prevent the high pitched whine that escaped his throat and Vilkas admittedly felt a small bit of satisfaction that his brother was feeling uneasy.  He'd put them in a difficult place, and Vilkas hadn't liked how she'd looked at them after his brother had said the word 'Werewolves'.

    His mind wandered uncontrollably and he found himself thinking about her muscular thighs wrapped around his waist and how right she had felt in his arms.  He hadn't even minded his brother shoving his tongue down her throat while she'd ridden out the orgasm Vilkas had given her. He frowned suddenly as the memory turned hazy, like a fog had descended over his eyes and warped to a different scene.  It couldn't have happened the way he was remembering because she was on her knees rather than in his arms, polishing his spear while his brother knelt behind her. He gave his head a shake.

  "I think we were poisoned last night," Vilkas whispered, rubbing at his eyes as though that would remove the glassy haze over his memory.    

   Farkas nodded and raised his eyes to look at his twin anxiously. "It wasn't Reyja…" he wasn't sure (Vilkas could tell by his tone of voice), but he was getting ready to defend his mate anyways.  His brother was loyal, like him.

    "She drank it too," Vilkas reassured him.

   "Bad wine…?" Farkas mused.

    Vilkas shook his head. "We would have been able to tell if it was spoiled." 

   Their beast blood prevented most poisons from taking effect on their bodies.  Most common poisons that is, included was the worst hangover. Their blood was so strong that they worked through even the worst of the misery in nothing more than an hour after first waking.  Drinking to become drunk meant hours upon hours at the Mead Hall and their coin chests significantly lighter for the effort.

   “Where did she get it then?” Farkas mused, locking eyes with him.  

    "You think her cousin...?" Vilkas trailed off.  The cousin was a barmaid, and worked the Bannered Mare, it was a possibility that she had gotten her hands on potent (and potentially illegal) drink.

   Farkas shrugged (he was loathe to admit her cousin would have anything to do with it) and glanced about for a shirt or torso piece seeing as he had the forethought of grabbing his greaves but not his armor.  He'd left that lying on the floor of his room where the little female was… his thoughts were interrupted by Vilkas' hand on his bare arm. His eyes shot to his twin's when he realized he was a step away from the door.  Vilkas had correctly anticipated his instincts. The magnetic pull was already happening. 

   He wanted to go back to her side already. “Vilkas..” his twin set his jaw, and glanced at the closed door himself. Vilkas could feel it too, that deep seeded need to be in the close proximity of their mate. 

   “She won’t understand.” Vilkas’ hand tightened in warning and Farkas felt the corner of his lip  _ almost _ curl into a defensive growl, he felt it build in his chest. 

   “She needs to know.” Reyja was tied to them now, in a way that was only breakable by death. Their female deserved to know exactly what they had done to her.   He just hoped his bollocks would survive the attack that would surely come from her booted feet (or hands, he doubted she was above crushing them in the palm of her hands… she was a blacksmith...).

   “We will tell her—”

   Farkas cut him off. “When brother?” Vilkas scowled at his brother, his lips firmly pressed together as he struggled with the words. Farkas was relentless as he continued brutally, “When the bond becomes so weak she can no longer stand?  Or when one of us rapes her for want of her? She needs to know, we cannot keep this from her!”

   Vilkas rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration, pinching at the corners of his eyes. “I know!” he growled at his brother and then he sighed heavily, but before he could say anything Aela knocked on his door.

   “Olfina is here for Reyja,” her voice betrayed nothing through the wood.

   The twins made eye contact and both swallowed.  Farkas whined low, and Vilkas remained silent for a moment.  He finally opened the door and Aela walked into his room uninvited.  He did not like the way her eyes scanned his bed. 

   “She’s upstairs waiting.”

   “And Reyja is sleeping in my room,” Farkas scratched absently at his hairy chest as Aela arched a red eyebrow in his direction.  He saw her nostrils flaring and her silver eyes darted between him and Vilkas.

    “You both stink of her,” she said it simply.  Vilkas kept his mouth shut, and Farkas followed suit, “I’ll let her cousin know.” And with that she walked out, leaving the twins to stare at each other.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

###  9

Olfina pressed her lips tightly together as she stared at her cousin’s sleeping form.  Her arms were folded disapprovingly across her breasts. Aela had been kind enough to advise her that Reyja was sleeping in Farkas’ room.  Since her father had sent her after Reyja, she wasn’t about to leave without her.

She was standing at the end of the bed, calling her cousin’s name repeatedly in vain.  Reyja wasn’t moving or even acknowledging that she heard her. She looked as though she were sleeping peacefully, dead to the world.

      "Reyja!" she snapped, reaching down to grab her cousin's leg.  She shook it, gently at first, and then with more force. She frowned.  This was unlike her cousin and she was starting to get worried.

     "How about I carry her home?" Farkas poked his head into his room.  Reyja swallowed as she glanced at him and nodded.

     "If you would," she licked her lips, "my father is waiting for her."

     Farkas grimaced and stepped into his room fully.  He was fully dressed in his suit of armour, with his long sword strapped to his back.  "She won't be much use to your father, I'm afraid."

     Olfina stepped back from the bed as Farkas gently picked up Reyja and cradled her close to his chest.  She was so small in his arms that if she hadn't known it was Reyja, Olfina could have just as easily mistaken her for a child.

    Vilkas was standing outside his bedroom door when they left Farkas room.  His silver eyes dropped to Reyja's sleeping form before he backed into his chamber to allow them more room to leave.  He didn't glance at Olfina as she passed by him, rather his eyes followed his brother's retreating back.

    They moved in silence until they left Jorrvaskr.

***********

The beast inside Farkas was whining, baring its teeth with its ears flattened back against its head.  Its tail was swishing back and forth in agitation as it paced back and forth in his mind. The barmaid was angry.  Rightfully so he conceded, but that wasn’t a reason to tear a strip from his hide.

“This isn’t like her,” the barmaid glared sideways at him as they walked across the Wind District, “What have you guys done to her?” He opened his mouth to explain when she cut him off and continued as though she hadn’t just asked him a question, “You are the one that tricked her into sleeping with you,” her eyes narrowed angrily at him, “You made her feel like a whore.”

Farkas grimaced and felt his face flush with heat.  He wasn’t surprised that the cousin knew about that, he hadn’t expected her to bring it up though. “I did apologi—”

“She deserves more than an apology,” she muttered, interrupting him again, “What did you guys do to her?” she repeated, her eyes were drawn to Reyja’s still form.  Farkas had shifted her in his arms and she hadn’t made a sound. “Is she going to need a healer?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “No, she’ll sleep it off.”

The barmaid bit her lower lip anxiously and sighed heavily.  They had arrived at the Gray-Mane household. She opened the door and guided him inside.  Farkas followed after her silently. They went up the stairs and eventually into the room the cousins shared.

Olfina waved towards the bed and folded her arms across her chest defensively as Farkas placed the little female as delicately as he possibly could on the bed.  He couldn’t help himself as he nuzzled her temple and inhaled her scent before he straightened and backed away from the bed.

His wolf howled in objection as he forced himself towards the door.  He didn’t know what else to say so he remained quiet. He knew that he wasn’t welcomed at the moment by the way Olfina dismissed him and went and sat on the bed beside her cousin.

The barmaid was patting Reyja’s hair when she noticed the purple marks on her throat.  Her head snapped back towards Farkas and her brows lowered ominously. “I think you should leave.”

He almost whined aloud.   _ Almost _ .  He ducked his head and without making eye contact with the furious barmaid left the Gray-Mane house.  He stood outside the door for a long moment, his eyes raised of their own volition to a second storey window.  He sighed heavily before he forced himself to go back to Jorrvaskr. His beast snarling viciously in his head as he went.

     ***********

It was late afternoon when Reyja finally opened her eyes to find two sets of pale eyes looking down at her with worry.  Her uncle and her cousin.    


She blinked once, twice, thrice and then winced in pain as Olfina squeaked in relief and hugged her tightly. “Oh thank Kynareth you’re awake!”   


“Ow, ow, ow, easy you’re hurting me, Fina!” Reyja muttered and then grimaced as her cousin let her go and placed a cool hand to her warm forehead.  She was not feverish.

Her uncle Eorlund remained quiet as he looked down at her with what felt like knowing eyes.  She felt herself blush beneath his gaze and just as she was about to say something foolish (of this she had no doubt) she realized where she was and frowned in confusion.  She didn’t remember coming home last night…   


“Farkas brought you home this morning,” Olfina answered her silent question, a crease between her brows, “How are you feeling?”

“So tired…” she mumbled, frowning as she tried to remember the events from last night and this morning.  She still had no memory of last night, but this morning had felt more like a dream than reality.

“You’ve slept all day,” Olfina pointed out, retrieving her hand.

Reyja frowned, but before she could say anything, her stomach growled fiercely, reminding her that she had not eaten anything of significance since the day before.  She smiled at her cousin sheepishly and struggled a sitting position wincing as she twisted her neck awkwardly and raw hot pain shot through her body from both sides of her throat.   


She did not miss her uncle’s pointed stare nor the way he turned on his heels without saying a word (now that he had ascertained she was all right), leaving the girls alone.  There was a heavy silence following his absence.

Olfina glanced at the doorway to their room and briefly wondered where her father was going to so quickly, but turned and reached over to her cousin to tug at the cloth still clinging to her throat. Her pale eyes glared at the brutal looking marks on her cousin’s slender neck.   


“Gods be damned animals….” she muttered low under her breath   


“Fina…” Reyja warned, feeling her face heat up, “We were all drinking I think…”

“What in Oblivion did you drink to let them do that to you?” anger was evident in her eyes as she glared at her cousin, “You can’t cover that up, Rey, everyone in the city will see those.”   


Reyja blushed brightly as she thought about the unknown Breton mage that had given her the bottle of liquor but could not recall specific details of his face or his features.  Not even his name that she  _ knew _ he had given her.  What had it been…? She was sure it had started with an S…

Her stomach growled again, louder than before.  Olfina finally took a deep breath and shaking her head stood to her feet. “Come along then, we’ll talk more downstairs.”

Reyja almost groaned aloud but her mouth salivated at the mere thought of fresh baked bread and soft goat cheese.  So she ambled slowly out of bed, grasping Olfina’s offered hand when her knees threatened to buckle underneath her own weight. Blushing, she found her footing and made her way slowly downstairs while her cousin hawked about her like an agitated mother hen.   


The bread was fresh from this morning, but no longer warm.  Reyja barely tasted it as she devoured it before even sitting down.  She was just swallowing the last of the crusty loaf when she frowned. It didnt taste right, and she knew she was hungry but it tasted...off.

“Was a new cook hired?” she asked.

Olfina shook her head, “No, ma still makes it every morning.”

“Hmm, the wheat must have spoiled maybe? Or new recipe?”

Olfina chuckled, “She’s been making the same bread for forty years.”

She thanked her cousin when she handed her a couple chunks of cheese.  She loved goat cheese and was already moaning with pleasure as she bit into one of the chunks.  And then the taste touched her tongue and she frowned again. What the…? It didn’t taste spoiled, but it was…  _ off.  _ She forced herself to finish the cheese, the taste lingered on her tongue and not in a good way.

Olfina was watching her eat in concern as it seemed like Reyja was forcing herself to chew and swallow the food.  Grimacing as if was spoiled or a few days old. “What happened last night, Rey?” she asked again, her voice soft.

Reyja sighed heavily. “I don’t remember…” she trailed off and then and shook her head as her cousin opened her mouth, “No, Fina, I  _ really _ don’t remember.” The space between her eyes started to lightly throb as she tried and tried, but all that came to mind was going to Jorrvaskr to talk to the twins, with that one bottle of whatever-that-shit-was.  They had made it to Farkas’ room, she remembered sitting at the bar, Farkas had opened the bottle and then…

Empty, nothing.     


Olfina looked at her cousin with empathy and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. “It will come back to you…”

“Fina,” Reyja released a hiss of a breath, “Stop babying me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were!” Reyja interrupted her, “It’s not the first time I’ve gotten drunk and forgotten what the fuck happened, and it wont be the last time either!” Her voice had raised a decibel, “Stop treating me like I’m made of fucking glass!  It’s irritating!”

“This is the first time you’ve come home looking like you’ve been chewed on!  Excuse me for worrying!” Olfina snapped back.

Reyja rubbed at her temple and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Fina… I just have a headache…”

Olfina sighed and approached her cousin to give her a quick hug. “I’m sorry too… you should go have a bath, maybe that will make you feel better?” she suggested.

She thought about it for a moment before she nodded slowly.  A nice long hot bath would definitely feel nice on her sore and tired muscles. “I think I’ll do that,” she agreed with her cousin.

“I’ll help you fill it.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

###  10

   Vilkas had stood in the hallway until Farkas had disappeared with the female, their female.  He had not wanted her to leave any more than his brother had, but they had little choice in the matter.  The cousin had been foaming at the mouth when she’d marched down the steps leading to the sleeping quarters of the Companions.

   It had taken everything he had to keep the beast from snarling at her.  Their mate needed to sleep, and he wanted to watch her as she slept. Her grey hair strewn across the pillow, forcing his eyes on her. Watching over her as she healed.  She belonged here, with them, not _there_.

   Vilkas took a deep breath and decided that he would go out in the training yard and pound a wooden dummy into Oblivion or, Talos forbid, a whelp unlucky enough to be outside.  The weapons master was in a foul mood this morning, and there would be no mercy from him today.

   And it got fouler as he stood face to face with Eorlund outside just hours later, a dark cloud swirling over his head.  He’d beaten the young Nord and Bosmer into a bloody mess, snarling at their deficiencies when the skyforge Blacksmith had stormed into the courtyard on a mission.  Vilkas had narrowed his silver eyes as the big muscular Nord had advanced towards him with purpose.

Vilkas had lowered the shield he had been using and waited for the older man to approach.  He knew what was coming and he steeled himself for it. The dark cloud thundered as his mouth became a thin, grim line.  He probably wasn't going to like what Eorlund was about to say.

“A word, pup,” the old Nord groused, his grey eyes narrowed to slits of unbridled wrath. Vilkas felt his chest vibrate with a barely audible growl at the low insult, he was certainly not a pup anymore.  His beast chuffed angrily.

  Vilkas dismissed the younger Companions with a nod.  They were only too happy to leave his miserable presence. “Eorlund,” Vilkas greeted him with a tight-lipped smile.  He was not feeling charitable towards the older man. His mate was at the blacksmith's home, a move he had not willingly agreed too.  Already his beast was savage, and he was restless. 

         Those grey eyes focused on his directly with an intensity meant to intimidate.  Vilkas was unfazed and stared back. "My niece," the smith began.

         "We've mated her," Vilkas interrupted him, wanting to make sure Eorlund knew what he was dealing with.  He did not want any misunderstandings with the blacksmith.  

        Eorlund grabbed him by the collar of his armour and yanked him forward roughly.  Their noses were almost touching. "I know, pup," he growled, his arms bulging. Vilkas knew if the smith were to punch him, it would hurt like a son of a bitch. "She doesn't know what the two of you did to her."     


       The weapons master had the decency to grimace but remained grim faced and silent as Eorlund glared at him. 

        "We spoke to her… Farkas told her what we are… " Vilkas finally said after a few minutes of silence had elapsed.

       Eorlund shoved him away roughly, the younger man didn't lose his footing and straightened immediately, his fists clenched tightly at his side. It would take much more than a rough shove for him to lose his balance. 

       "Did you now?" The older man spat on the ground at his feet, his tone dripping with sarcasm and disbelief, "I have a sneaking suspicion she doesn't remember anything." The smith straightened in front of Vilkas, "Did you ask her, before or after you nearly tore her throat out?"     


       Vilkas swallowed nervously, a lump the size of a mudcrab caught there.  He wasn't sure… the memory was hazy… he remembered some vivid details (her sandwiched between them for example) but others… were not so vivid… his uncertainty must have showed on his face for Eorlund's lip curled up in disdain.

       "As I thought," the smith spat at his feet again, "I think you should stay away from her for now, pup," Vilkas' beast snarled savagely in his head, there was no stopping it this time as the sound spewed from his throat, teeth bared and lips curled. Eorlund didn’t react except for a narrowing of eyes. “She is my niece, my kin," the older man snorted, "Your teeth do not scare me, pup. You did not even have the brains to court her first.

       The truth of his words hit Vilkas like a gut punch but he held himself straight.  Eorlund was in the right, she was his kin. He was a werewolf, no one apart from the Companions and the Silver Hand knew what he was.  What claim did he or his brother have on her? His wolf whined in his head pathetically.

      "Listen Eorlund," Vilkas licked his lips nervously, cursing his lack of tact, "she is bonded to us now…" he trailed off, trying to keep the panic from his voice, "She needs-"

      Eorlund cut him off abruptly. "Let me worry about my kin," the older man snapped, "I have a better idea of her needs and they don't include forcing her hand.  I've a hankering to tell Kodlak what you boys have done."

      Vilkas' heart stomach dropped to his boots.  He stood there staring at the smith. He opened his mouth to say something when Farkas came out of the doors and joined them.  His eyes on Eorlund.

     "I'm gonna say it to you too, pup," the older Nord turned on Farkas, "You both need to stay away from Reyja for now."

       Farkas did whine, unable to stop himself from making the high pitched sound. "Eorlund…" 

      "I don't want to hear it, pup," the smith snarled angrily, "If there is a lick of sense between the two of you, you'll stay away for now."

      "You can't do that, Eorlund!" Farkas actually sounded panicked, Vilkas put a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed hard.

      "Eorlund," Vilkas tried again, "The bond…"

      "Enough!" The older man snarled angrily, "I don't want you two sniffing at her heels until she is recovered!" Angry pale eyes stared them down, "Don't make me repeat myself." There was menace in his tone, and Eorlund stared them down for a good minute before he turned on his heels and left the yard of Jorrvaskr.

      Vilkas watched him leave, his lips pressed into a tight, grim line.  His knuckles had turned white on his brother's shoulder, and it wasn't until the smith was out of sight that he finally reacted.  A bellow of rage came from his lips and he turned to throw the shield at one of the dummies against the wall. He flung it with such force that it cut the wood in half and destroyed it.  The shield clattered against the wall noisily. It was ignored as Vilkas overturned a weapons rack in a fit of white hot rage.

      Farkas winced and whined loudly as he watched his brother make a mess of the training yard.  The younger twin placed a hand against his heart and rubbed absentmindedly, it ached, his entire chest did with every beat of his heart.  It wasn't that he wasn't angry, for he was. He was more scared than angry. The bond did not allow for long term separations… he didn't know what to do.  If Reyja was kept away from them for too long… this awkward situation could turn disastrous.

     It was a few moments before Vilkas returned to his side, his anger not fully spent, but calmer.  His silver eyes flickered gold and his body shuddered as he took a deep breath. 

     "What now?" Farkas asked.  Vilkas was smarter, he fully expected him to have a plan.

     "We wait," was all the older twin said calmly.  Farkas blinked at him.

      "Wait?!" He repeated surprised, "You mean to do as he says?!" his voice boomed and he glanced about, making sure no one was within hearing distance.

      Vilkas grabbed the front of his armour and pulled his down to his height roughly.  His brother brought his face within an inch of his own. "Yes," he snarled, "What choice do we have?!"

       Farkas whined and straightened when his brother released him. "We could sneak…"

       The older twin sliced the air with a hand, silencing his brother, "We will do it Eorlund's way and woo her."

       "Vilkas…" Farkas swallowed, "we need her… she needs us… "     


       "I know…" Vilkas' shoulders drooped in defeat and he was hit with a sudden heavy bout of fatigue that made him feel like the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders. "We can do this," he tried to sound encouraging, but he failed miserably.

      Farkas didn't say anything and he folded his arms across his chest as Vilkas slowly trudged towards the doors of Jorrvaskr.  His silver eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth. Woo her… he snorted to himself. They had already wooed her. She was theirs.

      He would be damned if he let Eorlund keep him away from his mate.  He refused to be brought to heel. He would keep to the shadows as best as he could, but he was going to see his mate one way or another, today.  Consequences be damned to Oblivion. Even a few punches from her uncle wouldn’t deter him from his goal. Eorlund would have to kill him. His beast growled in his head, in complete agreement with him. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comments are life!

###  11

      Olfina wiped her shaking mouth with the back of her arm.  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, throat burning and head aching.  This was the first sign… puking her stomach contents the moment she ate eggs, or smelled them. Mara have mercy on her… she was pregnant.  

        She took a deep breath and struggled to her feet, fighting back another wave of weakness.  She had to rinse her mouth out with water. Her tongue was not appreciating the taste of bile, and she had to dump the bucket.  Her family couldn't know, his family couldn't know. She had to tell Jon.

       Her eyes rolled as she thought of their last conversation.  This was not going to be easy. She wasn't going to apologize or change her mind, she couldn't now with this baby, but he had to understand that this time… he couldn't ignore it any more.  They had a time limit.

       She rinsed the bucket and her mouth and sighed heavily when she came back in the house to find Reyja sitting at the kitchen table, her head on the wood.  Olfina placed a hand to her cousin's back and rubbed gently. "Are you okay?"

      Reyja moaned. "I'm so tired…"

      "You slept all day yesterday, and the day before…" Olfina touched her cousin's forehead with the back of her hand.  She wasn't feverish…? "When was the last time you ate?"

      "I can't keep anything down Fina…" Reyja didn't even open her eyes, didn't even move, "It all tastes like ashes." By the gods don't let her be in the same predicament, they couldn't both be like this… the city would be awash with rumors.  The Gray-Mane name would not survive it.  

     Olfina knew her cousin wasn't pregnant… too soon… she hoped, but she had laid with the twins more than once...  Gods… she licked her lips and hugged her cousin's shoulders. "Want me to fetch the healer?" Danica would know right away if Reyja was pregnant… maybe not such a good idea.  She straightened and rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hands. Too much to think about all at once. 

      Gods be damned.  This wasn't happening.

      "This can't be happening," Jon said a few hours later when he finally met her behind the tavern at their usual hiding place, "Are you sure?"  His heart was pounding in his head as he stared at Olfina. She was hugging herself protectively, hunched slightly arms wound around her middle instead of crossed at her breast.  A warmth spread across his body as his eyes traveled the length of her body and settled on her midriff.

      "Can't be happening?" She repeated his words in a whisper, two big tears rolling down her cheeks, "Thanks for wanting this baby!" Her voice raised at him angrily.

        His eyes widened as he realized how his words had come across to her.  Her raised both hands towards her and shook his head rapidly, "I do want this baby!" He reiterated, stepping in her direction but unsure of his grounds. "Olfina," he licked his lips, "This is the best news ever," he said quickly, "I am beyond happy!"

       Her sigh was deafening and she closed her eyes. "Stop Jon." He obeyed instantly and his teeth clicked as he shut his mouth. "This doesn't change anything," her arms tightened about her stomach, "But now…" she licked her lips and her gorgeous pale eyes locked on him.  He hardened beneath her glare and swallowed, "You're on a time limit. Prove to me," she spoke like someone weary and tired, "show me you want me and our baby."

       His cock was panting at her words.  Show her? He took another step towards her and stood but a foot away.  Her breath caught when she finally noticed his heated stare. "You want proof?" He whispered, his arms coming up slowly as to not frighten her.  She didn't move as he deliberately wrapped his arms about her body and pulled her towards him, "I love you," he swallowed, "And I love our baby," another swallow, "I will speak to my family tonight."

     "This is not what I meant…" her voice stopped, and she pulled away from him, her eyes widened in surprise hands on his chest, gripping his armor, "What did you just say?"

      He didn't pretend to misunderstand.  He knew what she wanted, "I will speak to my family tonight," he repeated, and then added, "I will send a missive to the Bard's College on the morrow."

      Her eyes got wider, almost like gold septims, "Please dont lie to me about this…please dont..." she whispered low, her eyes watering. The emotions inside of her coming to the forfront again.  He was embarrassed that he had made her say those words. He was guilty of that.

     He leaned down and kissed her lips gently. "I am sorry," he apologized against her mouth, inhaling her, "that i have given you reason to doubt me in the past," he stopped talking and groaned as her tongue danced with his, "Forgive me for being such a coward." 

     Jon raised his head from hers and sighed heavily.  His raging hardon would have to wait to be assuaged.  If he bedded her now, she would think he was trying to distract her (he had done that in the past as well…).  He wanted her to trust him, to believe in him. He didn't have time to waste. She was right… they were on a time limit now, and he would be damned if the woman he loved was tarnished because of him.

      "Meet me here tomorrow night?" He leaned down and kissed her again.

      She looked at him confused as he pulled away from her. "Where are you going?" She frowned.

      "Talk to my family," he answered honestly.

      " _ Now _ ?!" He smiled at her expression and nodded.  He blew her a kiss and turned on his heels. Fear, adrenaline and happiness giving him a skip in his step.  The faster he dealt with this, the faster they could be married.

**************

       "Don't be making jokes like that," his older brother, Idolaf, glared at him later that evening.  Jon had gathered all the members of his immediate family at the dinner table and had disclosed with no tact, that Olfina was pregnant and they were going to get married.  This was his brother's reaction.

      Jon rolled his eyes at his sibling, "This is no joke," he snapped.  He heard his mother, Bergritte gasp his name in horror. "I love her," he glanced at his mother in apology, "You already knew that," he reminded her.

       "She's a Gray Mane!" Idolaf growled, "And a barmaid!" He added in disgust, as though her working was something to be embarrassed about, "She makes her money on her back, that babe isn't yours, mark my words," Jon felt his hands clenched in fists at his side, "You're just the richest of her clients and the most gullible."

      Jon wasn't even thinking as he swung, punching his brother in the face.  He heard his mother scream his name, his brother's wife, Alfhild called Idolaf's.  There was a marked size difference between them (his brother was a lot bigger, and stronger), the larger Nord would easily win.  Except Idolaf just turned his head and spit out a tooth.

     "I deserved that," he snorted, rubbing at his jaw, and then he shook his head, "but Jon, she's a barmaid! How many barmaids have you fucked in your life?  That's what they do!"

     "Just one," Jon answered angrily, "I swear Idolaf… stop saying that," Jon warned, his knuckles hurting. His fingers absently flexed and relaxed, aches running up his wrist. 

       "Fine, marry your wench," Idolaf smirked, "When that baby comes looking like a Redguard, you will be the laughing stock of Whiterun," Idolaf's eyes promised him ridicule, and his would be the loudest, "We're not going to support you and your Gray-Mane barmaid, nor her bastard."

       "That is enough, Idolaf!" Their mother's voice cut them off, "Jon," Bergritte came to stand in front of him, grabbing his face with both her wrinkled hands, "I know you love her, son," she began, "but maybe wait until the babe is born to marry her?"

        Jon backed away from his mother, his eyes wide in disbelief at what she was implying. "Mother…"

        "I think your mother has a point," his father, Olfrid, finally spoke, "It wouldn't hurt to wait until we could see the baby was Nord…"  _ was yours… _ is what his father was really saying.

        "Wouldn't hurt….?" Jon mimicked the words, his heart breaking at what was being alluded to.  His  _ entire _ family… they all thought…  _ his _ Olfina… was a whore... now he understood why she had refused to live with his family… he closed his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face.

      "We love you, son," his mother cooed, "Marriage is for life in Skyrim…a vow to Mara that can not be broken."

      Jon shook his head and turned on his heels.  He had heard enough. He was going to send a missive to the Bard's College.  He wanted to write it out. He would marry her before he left town (he would figure out how to sneak away with her to Riften later), give her the protection of his name… and when he returned, he would buy a farmhouse.  Her farmhouse. And chickens.

*************

       Reyja could not understand why she was feeling the way she did.  She had gone and seen Danica on her own after Olfina had suggested a healer.  The priestess of Kynareth had given her a full magic workover and she had found nothing.  No disease, no damage (the wounds on her neck had scarred over at this point) , and no baby (the thought had occurred to her very briefly).

     According to Danica there was no reason for Reyja to feel the way she did.   _ What the fuck was wrong with her _ ?!  She was confused and annoyed, irritable was more apt, and when she stood with Olfina at their family stall, she was in no mood to deal with Battle-Born bullshit.

      "You're nothing but a whore!" The loudmouth Battle-Born pointed a finger directly at Olfina (Idolaf was his name, she was sure of it).

       Her cousin gasped, as did most of the square.  Reyja simply got angry, something rage filled bubbled in her chest.  How dare that big oaf insult her cousin without provocation! She did not hesitate stepping around the stall, uncaring that she was weak and not at full strength.  He had fucking nerve!

      Her right hook came out of nowhere, his eyes widened and he stared down at her in surprise before he raised his fists.  She spat at his feet and raised her own, "Come on, fucker," she snarled, "You're going to kiss her feet when I'm done with you!"

      Reyja had no idea why he had called her cousin a whore, nor did she care.  Insulting her was as good as insulting Reyja, they were Gray-Manes and they were family.  Family stood together. She dodged his first couple hits, and hit him one more time before her cousin fucked shit up.

       "Reyja!" Fina distracted her, made her lower her guard.  He got a punch in. She saw stars and her vision swam. He punched her again and she dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Knees striking the packed dirt and cobblestones beneath her, hands scraping as she fought dizziness.  Gods be damned he had hit hard!

       She gave her head a shake and turned her head to look back at her opponent (he was probably going to be looking down at her triumphantly...), except that was not what she saw.

      Standing over her, his large back to her, was one of the twins.  She did not recognize him, unsure which one he was with her vision spinning.  She gasped as his gauntleted fists shook and he took over her fight with alacrity.

     It happened so fast.  Punches were not exchanged, a Battle-Born stood no chance.  His face was pummeled beyond recognition as the Companion transformed him into a bloody pulp and he was on the ground on his back.  A large black armored boot placed itself on his throat, pressing down.

      He was going to kill him!

      Reyja jumped to her feet and immediately grabbed the burly arm that shook with barely restrained fury.  His head whipped around to look down at who was touching him. His intense silver eyes glowed and he stepped off the fallen Battle-Born.  She opened her mouth to say something but he stopped her.

       His lips were on hers instantly, his tongue pushing past her teeth.  His large hands reached up and grabbed her head, his calloused fingers tunneling in her grey hair.  She moaned in surprise and melted into him. His scent overwhelmed her senses, his taste and tongue made her toes curl.

      He nipped as her lips and stepped even closer to her, crowding her with his presence.  She forgot where they were, who was watching, rational thought fled. His tongue danced with hers, lapping at mouth.  He growled, his chest vibrating against her. Her hands shook as they reached up to grab his wrists. The lethargy that had been her constant companion for the past week vanished, and Reyja found herself starving suddenly. For food, for drink, for him. 

      He finally pulled away, silver eyes staring at her intently, before he plundered her mouth all over again.  

       Farkas… her body recognized his devastating kiss even if her eyes did not recognize him.  Will she ever be able to tell them apart physically?

       "Farkas…" she said his name against his mouth when she could finally breathe.

       "Say it again," he growled against her mouth, "Say my name again, little female."

       "Farkas," she repeated, and then moaned as he deepened the kiss, his hands finally leaving her hair to pull her small body to his, he lifted her up so that she was at eye level with him, his large hand on her ass, the other at her back between her shoulders.  He was holding her to him like she was something precious. Fragile.

        "Reyja!" The spell was broken by Olfina's embarrassed voice as she hissed her name loudly.  

        Fuck...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love!
> 
> Comment are life!

###  12  

      Farkas had kept to the shadows, following Reyja discreetly.  She hadn't left the Gray-Mane house for two full days, his beast hated not scenting her nearby.  This was the first time he had a chance to see her. The wolf within flicked his ears to better listen and urged him closer, legs tensing to creep nearer.  He remained by the Bannered Mare.

     He would have done so had Idolaf not come stomping from the gates, his eyes focused on one of the Gray-Mane girls. Farkas felt his hackles rise and a growl start in his throat,  _ threat _ , his beast murmured.

     "You're nothing but a whore!" The Battle-Born pointed directly at Olfina, who had gasped in horror at the sudden accusation.  Farkas just prevented himself from rushing forward. The barmaid was Reyja's family… he felt compelled to defend her family.  _ Pack... _

      His little female moved fast and Farkas' beast finally won.  He shot out like an arrow when her fists started swinging. He was halfway there, when Reyja snarled with righteous fury. "Come on, fucker," she hissed, "You're going to kiss her feet when I'm done with you!"

     He growled savagely when Reyja was hit not caring who would hear the inhuman sound from his chest as he rushed forward, her cousin had obviously distracted her.  

     He got to her just as she took another hit, this one to the head, and fell to the ground.  He let the beast take action without transforming. Idolaf was given no warning, Farkas used all his strength and training.  This was an unfair fight.  He rained punches on his enemy, for that is how he saw the Battle-Born.  This male had attacked his mate,  _ in front of him _ .  There would be no mercy, no quarter given.  Blood sprayed, bone crunched satisfyingly beneath his knuckles, Farkas bared his elongated teeth, feeling them prick at the inside of his bottom lip.  

     The man was down, coughing up blood, the larger twin didn't even hesitate as he stepped on his throat. Applying pressure, feeling the flesh squish beneath his boot and so close to stomping his jugular.  He was going to kill him. He did not care that he was surrounded by witnesses. His eyes were golden as he stared into Idolaf's eyes. He wanted to watch the life slip away.

       Small fingers grabbed at his arm.   _ Her _ touch instantly dragging his attention away from his kill.  Only she could do this. Only she. His eyes zeroed in on her and he stepped off Idolaf.  He gave her no chance to speak. Her mouth opened and he plundered like a pirate starved for treasure.

       He grabbed her head to hold her steady and drank from her as though she were the fountain of life.  She was. Gods, he needed her. She moaned into his mouth, he swallowed the sound. _Mate.._ The beast whined to be closer, they were both wearing too much and he was ravenous. 

      "Farkas…" she breathed his name in a whisper.

       "Say it again," he growled against her mouth, "Say my name again, little female.

       "Farkas," she said it again.  He deepened the kiss making her moan.  He released her hair to pull her small body to his.  She gasped and he lifted her up so that she was at eye level with him, his large hand on her ass, the other at her shoulders.  He was holding her as close as he could.  

        "Reyja!" He ignored the cousin, and leaned his head forward to kiss her some more.  Nothing short of an act of the Divines (Vilkas or a dragon would do it too) would break his focus on her.

       "That's enough!" Eorlund's voice boomed suddenly, and Farkas found Reyja pulled from him roughly.  He snarled, the smith snorted unaffected by the primal sound and then punched him.  _ One.  Good. Punch _ .

      Eorlund didn't even flex his hand as he glared at the stunned Companion for a long minute. "You ignored my words, pup," the smith spoke matter-of-factly, low enough most wouldn’t hear his words from the crowd gathered in the marketplace, "Not only do I find you sniffing at her skirts," his voice raised a little in his ire, "but you were pawing her in the middle of the square, in front of my wife!"

      Farkas gave his head a shake, attempting to clear the fog and pain that warred for attention. "Get out of my sight, pup, you've humiliated my family enough." Eorlund cut his hand across in front of him, finality in his tone.  Farkas whined but did not dare disobey the blacksmith. He glanced at Reyja forlornly before he left the market and took the stairs to the Wind District two at a time.

      "It runs in the family then," Idolaf's broken voice made itself known, "Should run a brothel beneath that Skyforge." Eorlund heard his kin gasp behind him. Outsiders may not know the true strength of his forge, but the people of Whiterun did. To disrespect it...

       "Fralia," he turned his head towards his wife. His daughter and niece huddled together at her side, "Get the girls out of here now!"

       Idolaf struggled to his feet. "Nothing but a clan of whores!  The men sold themselves to the Stormcloaks, and the women," he made a disgusting sound, "have to support the family somehow, on their backs!" His voice was strained from the boot that has been crushing his windpipe just moments before. Fingers gingerly touching over the red flesh. 

      Eorlund kept his cool as he stared at Idolaf. "Go home, Idolaf," he said calmly, "You are making a fool of yourself."

      "I won't let that harlot you call a daughter trap my brother in marriage because she got pregnant by one of her customers!" He snarled at the smith, even as he spit it out a bloody tooth. The clatter it made skittered across the packed cobblestone walkway. 

       "Go home to your wife and get looked after, Idolaf," Eorlund repeated, his muscles clenching as he folded his big arms across his muscular chest.  He was angry, but there was no honour in beating an already defeated enemy. Farkas had nearly crushed the man’s windpipe already.

      "Chastity belts exists for a reason," Idolaf mocked while Eorlund heard small gasps from his family of women, "make some for your whores, you are the best blacksmith in Skyrim after all.” The taunt was spat out, along with a glob of saliva and blood from his mouth, right at the huddled forms of Eorlund's wife, daughter and niece.

      "Fralia," Eorlund repeated his wife's name, she jumped from glaring at Idolaf and ushered the girls from the square.  Eorlund unfolded his arms and shook his head in pity at Idolaf. "You are embarrassing yourself, and your family. Go home, boy."

      Eorlund watched the Battle-Born weave his way away from the square, pushing poeple aside as he went.  He sighed heavily and turned to mount the steps to the Wind District. He was so tired. He ran a weary hand down his face as he made his way towards his house.  Idolaf had implied Olfina was pregnant… 

     The door creaked ominously and Eorlund found his women sitting at the table.  Both of the girls were red, and Olfina was not looking at him. He made eye contact with his wife who was a lot paler than before.

      "Olfina," he said his daughter's name slowly. She flinched. 

     "I can explain, father," she began quickly, a tremor in her voice that made her sound so much younger than she was. 

     He pulled a chair and sat at the table directly in front of her. "I sure hope so, I am confused."

      Her eyes filled with tears, and two big drops rolling down her cheeks, Reyja reached over and grasped her cousins clenched fingers in her own hands. . "Jon…" she licked her lips, "We…" she raised a hand to cover her tear-filled eyes for a moment before squaring her shoulders and straightening.  She lowered her hand and focused on him directly, "We love each other, papa. I'm so sorry..." Eorlund sighed heavily. She hadn't called him papa in years, since she was nigh ten years old. "H-he really told his family…"

      He raised a hand to stop her tirade.  She hiccuped and swallowed back the words he knew would have been falling from her lips. "Why did you not speak to me before?" He asked deliberately, "Why did I have to find out you were with child," his wife gasped and brought a shaking hand to her mouth, "before you came to me?" 

       Olfina blinked and remained silent for a long time before she finally averted her gaze. "I don't know…" 

       "Dont lie to me," Eorlund returned, his pale eyes on his daughter.  She swallowed and closed her eyes as she answered.

       "I didn't want you to be disappointed…" she covered her face with both hands and cried.  Reyja reached over and touched her shoulder comfortingly.

      "Fina," he used her nickname, "Look at me, child," he waited while she regained her composure, "you can never disappoint me," he said, "You are my daughter… " he leaned forward and grabbed one of her hands, "I've known it was young Battle-Born for you since you were five years old," Olfina gasped as she stared at him with wide eyes, he continued, "and he brought you back that terribly sewed dolly his older brother had broken on you, so you would stop crying."

      Eorlund stared at his daughter for a long time, watching her reaction to his words when there came a knock at their door.  He sighed heavily and got to his feet to answer the door. He wasn't surprised to see Jon Battle-Born darkening his doorway sporting a blackeye and scabbed split lip. 

      "I-I w-would Iike a w-word, Eorlund," he stammered, fidgeting with his fingers and then straightened. 

      "I'm sure you do, boy," the smith smirked beneath his beard.  He stepped to the side and let the Battle-Born into his home. This was going to be interesting.

*************

       Vilkas was glowering, his foul mood getting worse by the word.  An eye twitched and before Farkas was done speaking, he had reached out and grabbed his brother by the throat.  His twin gargled and was silenced.

      " _ What did you do… _ ?!" He hissed, every word forced out.

     Farkas whined loudly, the sound echoing in Vilkas' room. "I'm sorry!" 

     "Not sorry enough!" Vilkas snarled as he threw his brother against the wall.  Farkas grunted and made an attempt at blocking as his brother unleashed his anger on him. "Gods be damned Farkas!" Vilkas shouted at him as he punched him over and over again, "This is not some tavern wench!  She's our mate! You bloody oaf!"

     "I'm sorry!" Farkas repeated, not fighting back.  He stayed on the defensive, he hadn't expected Eorlund to react that badly.  He really hadn't…

      Vilkas was panting.  He straightened and stepped away from his brother. "He wont let us near her at this rate…" he ran both hands through his dishevelled hair as he glared fire at his younger brother, "Why did you not leave her alone?"

      "I wasn't going to watch Idolaf kill her…" Farkas wheezed, doubled over, his ass leaning against the wall.  “He dared to strike her, Vilkas! Twice!” He held up two fingers with a shaking hand.

      Vilkas growled and closed his eyes, when he re-opened them, Farkas was staring at him, begging for understanding. 

       "You would have done the same!" Farkas muttered, finally straightening against the wall, "And don't you fucking lie and say otherwise." 

       A deep sigh came from deep within Vilkas' chest and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index.  Farkas was right, but Vilkas would not have followed her. "That is not the point, little brother," he snapped at him, "Eorlund has us by the fucking bollocks, idiot!"

      Farkas had the decency to blush. "I fucked up…"

     "Aye, that you did," Vilkas grumbled, and then he shook his head slowly, gods he was tired. "I'll speak to Eorlund in the morning…" he trailed off and stared at his brother hard for a moment, "What else should I know?"

      Farkas rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "I kissed her." Vilkas arched an eyebrow as his brother's blush darkened. "Not some chaste kiss either…" Farkas cleared his throat.

      Vilkas groaned and rubbed his face with a hand, "Gods be damned, Farkas."

      "I couldn't help myself," Farkas mumbled by way of explanation, "you should have seen her, Vilkas," he smiled, his eyes got that faraway look in them, "she went after him like a she wolf protecting her cubs," he swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing, "weakened and sick from the bond, she still attacked him.  She was beautiful… I would have mounted her in the square…"

      "Shut it," Vilkas muttered, not wanting to visualize what Farkas was describing.  He was going to beg Eorlund for forgiveness, on his knees if he had too. He was going to make Farkas suffer for this.  There weren't enough latrines in Whiterun, or Tamriel for that matter, for Farkas to clean that would make this up. 


End file.
